


Little Lotte

by MlleBree



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux, Phantom - Susan Kay, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: BDSM, Daddy Kink, F/M, Heavy BDSM, Kinktober, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2019-07-23 11:58:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16158530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MlleBree/pseuds/MlleBree
Summary: Christine, fed up with her every day life, her basic and bland relationship, and distraught over the recent loss of her father, turns to an unexpected place for comfort and uncovers a side of herself that she never knew was there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy kinktober! This is going to be a multichapter kink fic. Be advised it is going to be mostly pwp, only with slight plot. I will post most trigger warnings that may apply at the beginnings of each chapter, just know that there is likely at least one thing in this fic that will make you at least slightly uncomfortable. Over-arching trigger warnings for self harm.
> 
> Cowritten by eriksangel12 on FFN. Enjoy!

"I just don't understand why you'd break up with him, Chris. You two seemed really good for each other." Meg sat on the ratty couch in Christine's apartment, watching as Christine dug a spoon directly into a cheap gallon of chocolate ice cream.

"I dunno," she said around her mouthful, shrugging one shoulder. Christine stabbed the spoon into the ice cream, letting go of it and sighing. "So much has changed and i just… it was time for change. That's all." She said leaning back into the cushions of her couch.

"Were you happy with him? I mean, Raoul is a pretty good dude, and he was always super sweet and gentle. Y'know especially when your dad passed." Meg said gently, placing her hand on Christine's knee, trying to comfort her best friend.

"It wasn't him, well I mean- I don't know. He was super sweet and caring. He always has been, but Raoul was, ugh, I don't know how to say it." Christine grumbled, putting her hands over her face.

"... was the sex good?" Meg asked picking the ice cream up and taking another bite.

Christine sighed, "I mean, yeah. He was just, super gentle, and like never, well-"

"He wasn't very controlling, huh?" Meg inferred, and Christine nodded.

"He was the sweetest Meg, and I told him I always want to be friends, 'cause we've known each other since we were kids. He just, is so laid back. I mean, he's in maritime studies and wants to move to the islands to study aquatic life and live in a house on the beach!" Christine said, somewhere between a laugh and a sad statement.

"De Changy has always been that way. I swear the man would cry if he saw a dead goldfish," Meg laughed, trying to lighten her friends sour mood.

"He probably would," Christine huffed in a laugh.

"But, we aren't talking about Raoul, we are talking about you, Chris. What to you want? Someone more dominant?" Meg asked,

"I mean, yeah. But like- how do you tell with a guy? I can't just walk up to someone and say 'Hi I'm Christine, are you a dominant dude? Cool. Let's date.'" She joked, and Meg bit her lip.

"Ok, don't judge me Chris,"

"I'm your best friend. I won't."

"So, senior year, after I broke up with Sam, I found this website."

"...okay?" Christine said, furrowing her brows.

Meg sighed and her cheeks flushed a bit, "And it was for kinks and stuff, I didn't use it for long but I talked to a few guys from there. Its like Facebook for kinky people-"

Christine scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest, "I wouldn't say I'm kinky Meg-"

"I'm not saying you are, but just take a look on it. There's like groups and stuff that you can join and meet people who are into the same thing you are. Some of the guys are creeps, but some are in the same position as you." Meg suggested, taking another bite of the now melting ice cream.

* * *

Long after Meg left Christine couldn't stop thinking about that website, _FetLife_ Meg had called it. Christine didn't know what to make of the whole ordeal. She had found herself distracted from a writing assignment for her Literature History class.

"Oh screw it," she said, clicking off of her paper and opening a new browser.

She moused up to the address bar and before she could give it too much thought she clicked, typing in the name of the website and hitting enter. It took it a long minute to load on her stolen wifi and she leaned back, crossing her arms in front of her chest while she watched the loading bar stutter.

"FetLife is the Social Network for the BDSM, Fetish & Kink Community" the website's main page boasted. "Like Facebook, but run by kinksters like you and me. We think it's more fun that way. Don't you?"

The red join button in the middle of the black and grey webpage almost mocked her and she scrolled down lower on the page, reading the smaller grey print. Over seven million members, thirty six million pictures… the numbers listed were nearly too difficult to comprehend and she stared at it for a long while.

Seven million was a lot of people - a lot of potential to be seen by someone she knew. Then again, wouldn't they have to admit to being part of the community to expose her?

With a sigh she finally gave in to the temptation, clicking on the join button.

It took another long minute to load and she tapped her nail impatiently on the plastic of her laptop, taking a few deeper breaths to calm herself down. It wasn't a big deal, that's what she told herself. It was just curiosity - if she didn't like it she could just delete the profile and it would be like it never happened. It's not like she really had anyone to judge her anymore - Meg was her only friend and she had recommended it, she had no family left to be ashamed of her… what was the harm in just looking?

It loaded in and she stared at it. It seemed generic enough. Nickname… nickname. She typed the only thing that came to mind in the box; _LittleLotte_. It was a nickname her father gave to her a long time ago - it had never made much sense to her, her name was Christine and not Charlotte, but it was sweet all the same.

Gender - female, sexual orientation - straight. As she scrolled through the options she wondered if she even belonged in a place like this. It wasn't until she hit the role option that she was truly lost.

She wasn't completely out-of-touch - she recognized some of the options. "Dominate," for example. That one was simple enough. "Submissive," even "switch" wasn't too hard to piece together with her limited knowledge. It was as she scrolled further down the list that she was confused - half of the options would require a google search and she wasn't quite sure she was ready to know what they all meant yet.

She made it to the bottom of the list and sighed in relief, clicking "undecided."

Location - USA, Massachusetts, Boston. It was a big enough city that she didn't feel completely uncomfortable giving the information.

She typed in her email, picked a password and clicked the "Almost there!" button at the bottom the the page.

The next page that came up prompted her to add a picture. She sighed, hitting the browse button. She scrolled through the few selfies she had saved on her hard drive, eventually settling on what she decided was the best one. Her skin was clear, her smile was halfway decent and her hair wasn't quite as frizzy and fly-away as it tended to be these days.

The next page was nearly blank. The side of it read "friends feeds" and there was a bar of options across the top next to a search bar. It felt a bit like a wasteland and she was completely lost as she stared at it. Eventually, gathering herself and preparing for anything, she moused up and clicked on the "Explore" tab, trying to be prepared for anything.

The first picture was a girl on her knees, a collar around her throat and a leash leading somewhere out of frame. It wasn't anything _too_ uncomfortable. She was pretty, Christine thought, really pretty with long, straight, dark hair and makeup that looked like it had been done by a professional.

Her confidence restored she scrolled down. Two text posts that the titles didn't even quite make sense to her, she kept scrolling.

The next one was a video. She didn't dare click play - the frozen frame of a girl with a cock in her mouth was more than enough to sate her curiosity.

She wasn't so sure it was a _social media_ platform. The further she scrolled the more it seemed to be nothing but an amature porn agrigate. Disappointed, she moused up to the corner and clicked the spot right next to her picture, scrolling down and clicking log out.

She closed the tab and when she went back to her essay with a much clearer mind.

* * *

"I think I'm gonna delete it," Christine said, holding her phone between her shoulder and ear as she scrubbed at the rust-stained bathtub with an old sponge.

"What? Chris, no, don't do that. You've hardly even given it a chance," Meg said. Christine could hear the rustle of the bag of chips and the crunch as her friend rudely chewed on the phone.

Christine leaned back, rubbing her forehead with the back of her forearm. "I saw those pictures - I can't post stuff like that, Meg. It's so embarrassing."

"Not everyone does that!" Meg said in exasperation. "Hey, it's okay, Chris. It'll just make people even more curious about you. Give it one week, for me. If you still want to delete it in a week then go for it."

"I feel like a whore just having a profile. It's just porn, Meg," Christine argued with a huff, running the back of her wrist over her brow and tucking back the few wild curls that had escaped her hair tie. "I just really don't know if it's the place for me."

"Exactly! You _don't know_. Seven days, Chris. Give it a chance before you shoot it down." Meg crunched on a chip on the other end of the phone. "If you haven't met anyone that interests you at all then you can delete it."

Christine leaned back on her heels and sighed. "Just seven days? And then you _promise_ you won't give me shit if I delete it?"

"Pinky promise, and I'm _so_ not crossing my fingers behind my back."

Christine sighed and turned on the hot water from the tap in the bathtub, wringing the sponge out and trying not to cringe at the temperature. "Seven days and then I'm deleting it. I still think it's just porn… but if you insist, I'll at least give it a try. What do I have to lose, right?"

"Exactly!" Meg exclaimed. Christine could practically hear her grin through the tinny speaker of her phone. "Listen, I really did meet one or two guys there. It's not bad, Christine. I found out it's just not what I'm totally into. If you're safe there's nothing wrong with just _exploring_ a little bit. It's nothing to be ashamed about. Besides, I'm the only one that even knows and I'm totally not judging you."

"I just don't know -"

"You're nineteen, Chris. Have a little fun. Maybe you can meet someone that'll teach you not to take yourself so seriously. It'll be good for you."

"Yeah," Christine finally conceded with a sigh, setting the dripping sponge on the edge of the bathtub. "I guess maybe you could be right."

"I _know_ I'm right," Meg said, right back to crunching on her potato chips. "How're you doing with everything else?"

Christine finally sat back on the floor, crossing her legs in front of her. "Fine. Really, Meg. I'm mostly doing okay. I've just been trying to keep myself busy."

"If you need to get out -"

"I know. I'll call you. I promise," Christine answered, smiling despite herself. "Listen, I've gotta go. I've got class early and I need to finish cleaning or I'll never get it done."

Meg sighed. "Alright. Call me tomorrow, okay?"

"I will. I promise."

"You better, you know I'm not afraid to break down your apartment door if you don't."

Christine laughed. She knew it was true but she appreciated her friend all the same - every time she was ready to close herself off Meg forced her way in and refused to let it happen. Even though she hated it in the moment, Christine knew that she needed it and she was lucky to have a friend like Meg. "I _will_. Goodnight Meg."

"Goodnight, Chris. Sleep tight."


	2. Chapter 2

Christine's profile bustled with activity. She already had ten comments between the two pictures she had posted of herself, all left by strangers. There wasn't a single comment that she could point at and call nice.

"What a pretty girl - those lips look like they'd fit nice around my cock."

"I bet you'd like to get naughty for me, wouldn't you?"

They all varied in content but each seemed to be more vulgar than the last. She had never seen so many dicks in her life - literally. Clicking through the profiles of the men that commented made her blush, quickly backing out of the pages after they loaded.

Some of them didn't even have pictures of themselves - their profiles consisted of various dick pics, taken at different angles and in various, far less-than-appropriate places.

She couldn't even bring herself to reply to the comments that were left - instead she simply watched in horror, feeling very much like she was watching someone else's profile. There was a certain level of disconnect that she just couldn't quite get past.

Day three and she couldn't quite figure out why Meg was trying to convince her to keep the profile. So far it seemed like nothing more than creepy, horny old men looking for a hookup and that was certainly not what she had been intending to find.

The private messages were worse than the comments on her pictures - she wasn't sure why it surprised her but it did all the same. Somehow vulgar questions about her privates seemed to be what the men believed would get her to respond - she deleted each message almost as soon as she opened them, trying her best to forget about them. She had yet to find a single one that even tempted her to respond.

It wasn't until day four that one actually appeared in her inbox that seemed civil. The subject was simply "Hello" and when she opened it and scanned she didn't see anything even referencing sex.

_Are you new here? Forgive me for asking. I was simply scrolling through and your profile intrigued me. I hope that you haven't been too overwhelmed - I promise that not everyone on this site is a raging creep. I'm sure you've figured it out by now but if not then you can click up near your username in the corner - go into settings and you can change your privacy settings. It won't stop the creeping entirely but it will limit it. I hope you haven't been scared away entirely yet! - Erik_

_P.S. if it's too bad you can block people there too._

Intrigued, she clicked on his profile. It was nearly as bare as hers, no bio, hardly any activity at all. "Angel_of_Music 32M Dom (Chicago, Illinois)." There was only one picture on his profile - a body shot of a man in a suit, taken strategically from the neck down. Despite the visible outline of his cock in his pants she had to admit that it was one of the most tasteful profiles that she had come across so far.

He was listed as single, looking for a relationship, a sub, a "princess by day, slut by night". At first she had balked at the sentence - then she realized that they were predetermined phrases.

She scrolled further down and came to a wall of text, a list of fetishes and kinks that she couldn't quite completely understand. She didn't bother mousing through them - instead she went back into her inbox and opened his message again.

_What if I just want the comments to go away?_ She typed, hitting enter.

To her surprise almost immediately a typing icon appeared.

_On the pictures? Open the picture and go to the comment. Pick the tiny text that says "more" and it will give you a delete option._

She left the message again, going to her profile picture and testing it. She hit delete and an "Are you sure?" box popped up. She hit yes and watched the comment disappear.

She went back into their conversation. _Thank you so much!_ She typed, sending the message.

His reply came just as quickly as the last. _It's no problem. There's a bit of a learning curve - I wish they made it easier. What's your name?_

_Christine_ she typed, sending the reply quickly.

_Well, Christine, if you need any help then feel free to ask. I hope it'll be a little easier on you. Good luck finding whatever it is you're looking for._

She bit her lip, staring at the message. She clicked back through to his profile, going back down to the list of kinks. Bondage was simple enough, choking was pretty obvious. A few caught her eye, words that she knew the definitions of but not in the context of BDSM - discipline, power exchange, rules and consequences, pain, collars, Daddy/little girl… she clicked that one and it just opened up on a page that consisted of message boards that didn't give her much more of an understanding.

She opened the message again, trying not to think too hard as she typed. _What if I need help with that too?_ She hit enter, contenting herself with the fact that he lived states away and if she made an idiot of herself there was very little chance that she would ever run into him outside of the website.

The typing icon didn't appear and she clicked back to her profile, beginning the process of cleaning the comments on her pictures out.

As she clicked through to the second picture a red one appeared next to the mail button and she clicked it eagerly, opening his message.

_With finding what you're looking for?_

_Yeah_ she responded.

_Well, what are you looking for?_

She pulled her laptop onto her knees, leaning back against the couch. _I don't really know._

The typing icon appeared and disappeared a few times and she stared at it, wondering why she was so enthralled by him. He hadn't shown an ounce of interest in her aside from his comment about her profile being intriguing - then again maybe that was why. It was so different from anything she had encountered on the website so far that it caught her attention.

_What brought you to FetLife?_

She stared at his question for a long moment. _A friend recommended it._

_Do you have any experience in this community at all?_

_No._ She sent the answer so quickly that she didn't even give herself a moment to contemplate it.

_Nothing like diving in headfirst. So you aren't even sure what you like… Why did your friend recommend it, Christine? There must be a reason._

This time she paused, mulling over how to answer him for a long moment before she started to type. _I broke up with my last boyfriend because he just couldn't satisfy me… he was a good guy, really, and I was lucky to have him there just wasn't an ounce of dominance in him._

_So you're a submissive?_

_I think so_ she replied, staring at the typing icon.

_So look for a Dom. You want to find someone that you click with, someone that keeps your attention. Figure out what you want - do you want someone just in the bedroom or do you want something you can shape your life around? I can't answer it for you. No one can. Each and every submissive and dominant is different. Just make sure that you don't ever let anyone tell you that you have to do something. You don't. Find someone that can take no for an answer and explore with you at your pace. Trust is important._

She sighed, her fingers ghosting over the cold plastic keys of her computer as she contemplated her reply. _Why did you message me?_

_You are very beautiful and very new. I could tell. The flood of comments with no replies and your empty friends list told me that you might be in a little over your head._

There was a short break as she read his message and then, before she could even poise herself to type a response, the typing icon came back.

_If you are asking whether I was interested in you - yes. I was._

She felt the upturn of her smile. _Are you still?_

The typing icon appeared for about thirty seconds - it disappeared and reappeared, disappeared again and finally his single-word reply came through; _Yes._

_Even though I'm so new?_ She typed, wondering why she was trying to talk him out of her when her heart was racing with excitement.

_Everyone starts somewhere. We were all new once._

_Will you tell me about the daddy thing?_

_So you've poked through my profile?_

She blushed, staring at his message. _I'm sorry._

_Don't be. That's good, you should do that. It's important to get a feel for the people you're talking to. A daddy is just a kind of dom - I'm a dom first and foremost, daddy just tends to be a subcategory of sorts. It's a more… nurturing role, a bit softer. If you have any specific questions I'd be happy to answer them._

She traced her fingers over the edge of her laptop as she contemplated her response. _I don't want to offend you._

_You are coming into this world completely new and blind. I promise I will not take any of your questions offensively._

_Is it an incest thing? Do you like to be called daddy?_ There was a long pause before the typing logo reappeared.

_It is not an incest thing. That's a pretty common misconception though - I can understand how it would come across that way. The relationship a daddy dom tends to form is just more fatherly than one, say, between a master and a slave. I enjoy teaching, nurturing and building up more so than the general dynamic between a dom and a sub. In answer to your second - yes. I do like to be called daddy. Right now, though, you can call me Erik._

She looked around the apartment. It was much darker now than it had been when she first sat down. _Shouldn't I get used to the terminology?_

_That's hardly the most important thing. Erik is fine for now. When you call me daddy - if you call me daddy - I want it to mean something. Your profile says that you are 19. Are you going to school?_

_Yes._

_That's good. What are you studying?_

_Elementary level education. Teaching._

_That's a tough job. You must have a lot of patience. Do you have class in the morning, sweetheart?_

Christine stared at the term of endearment, hardly able to stop the way her smile spread. It was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, to be this excited about a man on the internet that lived states away and wouldn't even post a picture of his face but she couldn't help the excited thump of her heart. _I do but not until 8._

_Well, it must be getting late there, what, nearly ten? I think that you should head to bed soon, Christine, sleep on this whole thing. If you are still interested in pursuing something like this I want you to message me when you get home from school. I want you to think about it and tell me one thing that you're interested in trying or learning about. Do you think you can do that?_

_I think I can._ She replied. Surely there was a vast amount of options to pull from - she didn't really know anything about the lifestyle and just clicking onto his page gave her at least ten subjects that she could broach.

_Good girl. I hope to hear from you tomorrow then. Sleep well, Christine._

_Goodnight Erik._

She stared at the webpage for a few minutes longer but when the typing icon no longer appeared she closed the lid, making her way to her bedroom.

* * *

By the time Christine got back to her apartment Meg was already inside and using her microwave to pop a bag of popcorn.

"I didn't know you were coming over," Christine said, dropping her heavy book-bag by the door and closing it, locking the handle, the deadbolt, and doing up the chain on the door.

"Don't sound so excited to see me," Meg teased, pulling the door open as the microwave beeped. "C'mon, I know you've got tomorrow off. I brought popcorn and chick flicks - I thought you could use a girl's night. I'm not, like, interrupting a hot date or anything am I?"

Christine rolled her eyes. " _No_ ," she said. "I'm gonna go change - put a movie in and I'll be right back."

"Okie dokie artichokie," Meg said, pulling the steaming bag of popcorn open and aiming it away from her face.

Christine pushed her bedroom door closed quietly behind her, sliding her phone out of her pocket. She navigated to the web browser, typing FetLife in the address bar. She logged in quickly, checking the "remember me" box and waiting for it to load.

She had one message in her inbox and her heart skipped only to be disappointed when she realized it wasn't from Erik - instead it was just another of those generic profiles with a penis as the profile picture. When she opened it all she found was a vulgar message and she scrolled down, deleting the conversation. She went and reopened the conversation between her and Erik. _I'm home for the night._

She set her phone on the edge of her dresser and pulled her shirt off, letting out a sigh of relief as she unclasped her ill-fitting bra. She left both laying on the floor and unbuttoned her jeans, walking across the room as she pushed them down her thighs.

Pajamas. Her favorite. She slid on the thick, fuzzy blue pajama pants and found a black hoodie, pulling it over her head.

She picked her phone back up, unlocking the screen. No reply, no indication that he was typing or that he had even been online at all. She locked it and slid it back into her pocket, joining Meg on her ratty couch and sitting against the arm of the couch. She pulled her feet up on the edge and when Meg tilted the back of popcorn toward her she reached in, grabbing a decent handful.

"What're we watching?" she asked, staring at the advertisements as though they were actually interesting.

"PS I Love You," Meg answered with a full mouth.

Christine sighed, picking at the popcorn in her palm. "Jesus, I'm beginning to think you're _trying_ to make me cry."

"You could use a good cry," Meg said with a halfhearted shrug. "You've been through a lot these last couple months with your dad and now the break up with Raoul…"

"I'm fine, Meg. I swear," Christine argued, tilting the last bit of popcorn into her mouth. "Well, not about dad but the Raoul thing; really, I swear I'm okay."

"You're not even a little sad?"

"I mean, a little bit. We were together for, like, four years," Christine shrugged. "It was over. I mean, it's been over for a long time. I think I've already kinda grieved over it."

Meg clicked play and Christine slid her phone from her pocket, huddling herself in the corner of the couch and opening her profile back up. She had a new message and she clicked it eagerly.

_I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm still at work and it's been hectic today. I might be a little slow to respond. How was school?_

She glanced over at Meg who was too busy shoving handfuls of popcorn into her mouth and staring at the small flat screen television to be paying her much mind. _It's okay, I understand. School was alright - semester three. The classes are starting to get a little more difficult but it hasn't been anything too hard yet. I only have one more math class to take and I'm looking forward to being done with that - I'm not very good at math. What do you do for work?_

Christine leaned her temple against the back of the couch, smiling as she watched the little typing icon.

_Architecture. I'm forced to be good at math. We broke ground on a new 240 unit apartment building and it seems someone has misplaced a few rather important sketches. Congratulations on almost being finished with math; it's pretty exciting when you finish with those core classes and get into the ones that actually interest you. Have you given any thought to what we talked about last night, Christine?_

_I have. I have two and I think they might kinda go together but I'm not 100% sure. Rules and power exchange._

She watched the screen of her phone and Meg pushed her knee with her foot. "Whatcha doing, Chris?"

"Browsing," she said, flushing bright red as she looked up and met Meg's eye.

Meg grinned at her. "You didn't delete it."

"... I didn't," Christine admitted, looking back down at the screen.

_Pretty perceptive for someone stepping blind. Power exchange is pretty much just a fancier way of saying rules and consequences. It essentially just means that you agree to follow your dom's rules - not blindly, of course. You can't just be expected to know them and sometimes breaking them can be okay depending on the rule and the reason it's disregarded. They would be discussed and agreed upon by both parties. Let me ask you, now; is this something you were interested in trying or were you simply curious?_

"Oh my god, you found someone didn't you?" Meg asked. When Christine flushed she laughed. "Show him to me! C'mon, you have to share."

"He only has one picture," Christine mumbled, trying to block her friend out and formulate a response to him.

"Well show me the one picture, Chris. Is it really bad?"

"No," she answered. "Hang on…"

_Something I would be interested in trying or something I would be interested in trying with you?_ She hit enter and waited for the message to send before she clicked through to his profile and clicked on the single picture to open it.

She held her phone out to Meg and Meg snatched it from her hands.

"Well, he seems to have a decent body," she said, scrolling over the page. She tapped on something and Christine reached for the phone, grunting as Meg leaned back and pulled it out of her reach. "Hang on…"

"Don't read my messages," Christine mumbled.

Meg glanced up at her and raised her eyebrows. "Trust me, I don't wanna know what kind of weird shit is in your inbox… Jesus, thirty-two?"

"Are you judging me?" Christine huffed, pulling her knees to her chest.

"Not at all. I just hope you know what you're getting into, that's all. He's got quite a list of kinks there. You're not just talking to him because he's in Chicago and you think he's safe, are you?"

"He's really nice, Meg," Christine said defensively.

"He got a job?"

"He's an architect," Christine mumbled. "Can I please have my phone back?"

"Here, you've got a message," Meg said, surrendering the phone back to her.

Christine sighed, clicking it and opening his response.

_Either one, Christine. With me or with anyone._

She contemplated it for a long moment before she typed out her response. _I could say no if it was too much, right? I might be willing to consider trying it with you._

There was a long wait and just as the typing indicator popped up she got a notification. There, sitting in her pending box, was his friend request. She accepted and clicked back to the message just as it lit up with a notification.

_I encourage it but I need you to understand that if I give you rules and you start exploring these things with me I will consider you mine. That's a pretty quick step for someone that only just fell into this life. That doesn't mean there won't be an out - you will always be free to walk away - but for the time being it means no talking to other Doms, it means transparency and accountability. If you want to sleep on it I wouldn't discourage it - if you honestly feel like it's a step you're ready to take then I will believe you._

She worried her lip, typing and backspacing her reply at least three times before finally hitting enter so she couldn't argue with herself over it. _What does that mean as far as you and I go? In more vanilla terms, please. This is a lot to wrap my head around and I just want to know what I'm really getting myself into._

"Don't look at me like that," she sighed as she met Meg's eye.

"I'm just trying to figure out what you're thinking so hard about over there," Meg said with a shrug.

_I'm afraid I'm not sure what exactly you're asking. Can you be more specific?_

_If I'm expected to be committed and faithful to you can I expect the same?_

She stared eagerly at the screen of her phone, waiting for his message to come through. Her heart hammering wildly in her chest.

_Polyamory and open relationships have never appealed to me. I do not share very well and relationships are a lot of work. You can expect to be my only sub and the only woman in my life for the duration of our relationship. Does that answer your question?_

_I think so._

There was a long pause before his next message came through: _Tell me what you're thinking, sweetheart. Do you need time to think it over?_

Christine looked up, locking eyes with Meg.

"The look on your face tells me you're doing something really dumb," Meg prodded.

Christine shrugged. "I think I might be in a relationship."

"With a thirty two year old man that lives states away? Christine, you can't even confirm the fact that he _has_ a head."

_I want to try_ she typed, hitting send before she could talk herself back from the ledge.

"He has a head, Meg," she huffed.

Meg tutted. "But you can't really _confirm_ that, can you? You haven't seen it… Chris-"

"It's fine, Meg," she sighed. "Honestly it's probably safer than going to the bar and picking someone up - it's really easy to back out. He's been really nice so far. Can you just be happy? You're the one that talked me into joining this stupid site in the first place."

_Are you sure?_

_I'm sure._

"If you're happy I'm happy for you. I just want you to be safe, you know that."

_(773)555-8792 you can feel free to text me whenever you are ready to._

She stared blankly at the message. "He gave me his phone number."

"Ooh, what's the area code?" Meg asked, perking up.

"773," Christine answered.

Meg pulled out her own phone, typing it in the search. "Well, it's Chicago alright. He must live outside of downtown."

"What do I do?" Christine asked, still staring blankly at it.

"What do you - oh my god, Chris. You are so awkward. Text him. Seriously. You already told him you wanted to be with him. It's really easy to block a number - I can show you how."

"Just, like, text him? What do I even say?"

"Uh… 'hi this is Christine' would probably work great."

And so that was exactly what she did. She clicked the hyperlink and saved the contact under "Erik" and clicked the text button. _Hi, this is Christine._

_Hello Christine. I was beginning to think I may have scared you off._

"I think it's just having you here," Christine mumbled. "I wasn't nervous until you started staring at me."

Meg just laughed, looking back at the television.

_You didn't, I'm sorry. My friend Meg is here and she was just distracting me._

_Ah, no, I'm sorry. Enjoy your time with your friend, sweetheart. I had no idea you had someone over._

_Meg is always here and she's making me watch sad movies. I'd rather talk to you honestly._

_Meg. Is that the friend that introduced you to FetLife?_

_It is._

_Did she help you come up with your username?_

Christine bit her lip, staring at the text message. _No. That was an old nickname my dad gave me when I was little._

_Ah. I did wonder. I'll admit that I was surprised when you said you had no experience - reading a bit too deeply into your username I suppose. What movie are you watching?_

_PS I Love You._

_I don't think I've seen that one._

_Don't. It really sad. I cry every time I watch it._

_Well that's just not good. Why are you watching it then?_

_Meg picked it and she said I need a good cry sometimes. Maybe she's right. It's been a rough few months but I think things are starting to even out a little._

_I'm sorry to hear that. If you don't mind me asking, what happened?_

_My dad passed away._

_My condolences. That's difficult on the whole family._

_Just me mostly. I'm really all that's left of the family. It's okay, though. I have Meg and she really is a huge help._

_You have no family at all?_

_I was an only kid. Mom died in an accident when I was too little to remember and her family kinda walked away too. Dad was kinda estranged. It was just me and him for as long as I can remember._

_I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart._

_No, I'm sorry. I'm being a bit of a downer, aren't I?_

_Not at all. I asked. It's important for me to know these things about you anyway._

_Really? Why?_

_It's important in building any kind of relationship. Especially one like this - I need to know what your support system at home is like. It doesn't sound like you have much of one. We will take things very slowly._

_What about you? Do you have family?_

_I never knew my father. My mother is still around. I don't see her much._

Christine looked over at Meg, reaching out and fishing almost all the way to the bottom of the popcorn bag to steal a handful.

"Everything okay?" Meg asked, tilting the bag to make it easier.

Christine shrugged, taking a bite of the popcorn. "He seems normal. I mean, we're just talking. It's kinda nice."

"If things get weird or he makes you uncomfortable -"

"I know, Meg," Christine huffed. "I'm not stupid."

Meg looked at Christine carefully, smiling sadly. "I didn't say you were, Chris. I just want you to trust your gut, that's all."

_If you are still interested I have a few very simple rules to start you out with, Christine._

_A few? Can we talk through them one at a time? I'm still interested._

_Absolutely. The first is simple. Honesty. If you want to talk to any other doms you will tell me who and why and ask for permission. You will be honest about what you talk about. You are free to, and encouraged to, talk to and befriend other subs. You do not need permission for that. Do you have any objections to that?_

_That seems fair. What about you, though? Do you talk to other subs?_

_No. Generally speaking I will not. I have no reason to. If I do I will not ask your permission but I will be honest with you about it. I will never lie to you and I expect the same from you._

_Ok. I can agree to that. What's the next one?_

_We are starting very simply, sweetheart. I want you to text me when you go out. You will text me that you are safe when you make it where you are going and you will tell me when you've made it home. You do not need to tell me where you are yet. You will not be expected to keep contact with me the whole time._

_So just text you when I'm there and when I get home? That's not hard. I can do that. What's the next one?_

_Do you have a job, Christine?_

_I do. I'm a part time barista at a local coffee shop. I usually work full time hours and try to take overtime though._

_I see. You must be very busy then. How are you doing in your classes?_

_I'm doing ok. Sometimes it's a little hard to keep up._

_I imagine it is. Your third rule; you're going to start working on your class work first thing when you get home. That needs to be finished first. If you want to put something off for anything other than work you need to tell me what the assignment is and why. If it's simply too difficult you will tell me what it is and what you need help with. Do you have any thoughts or objections?_

_No more procrastination?_

_No._

_Okay. I think I can agree to that one too. I should be doing it anyway. What else?_

_I don't expect you to be perfect. This one is very important, Christine. You are going to make mistakes; you're only human and you're very new to this. If you break a rule I expect you to be honest and tell me._

_What happens if I break a rule?_

_For now? We talk about it. We figure out why you did it and how to avoid it in the future. We can discuss actual consequences later, after you're a little more comfortable in all of this._

_Okay. That doesn't sound too bad. What else?_

_That's all for now, sweetheart. I don't want to overwhelm you. We're going to try those for a little while and see how it goes. Give it a week or so. If you want more then and we agree that you're ready we'll add more._


	3. Chapter 3

Despite this new relationship that Christine had now found herself in, her week seemed to drag on with a pace of molasses. It was torturous. The normalcy of classes four days a week and all her spare time during the day filled with any shifts she could pick up at the coffee shop.

The only bright spots seemed to be at night when she would spend hours texting with Erik. He was like no one she had ever spoken with before. It seemed like every text he sent her was perfectly thought out. Sometimes she was convinced that she was being catfished.

The only new thing added to her routines were his simple rules. They were easy enough to remember and the texting wasn't particularly intrusive when the only places she ever really went were classes, work, and occasionally Meg's apartment. That was it. He always would respond with some variation of "Thank you for telling me sweetheart, have a good day." She usually felt a little ridiculous how much a simple statement such as that made her blush.

One night, when Erik told her he wouldn't be able to talk much due to a meeting he had no choice but to attend, she did a bit of research. It started off simple, just questions like "Daddy/LittleGirl" which immediately brought up links to porn. The second search result was a YouTube video titled "The Myths and Truths of a DD/lg Relationship" and she clicked it, finding herself curious about what she in fact was getting herself into.

The girl who came up in the video didn't look so different than any other college aged girl. Her hair was dyed different colors, and her lips were pierced. She wore a pink choker and it had a small pendant on it. The walls behind her were pink and in her arms was a stuffed teddy bear with a pink bow between the ears.

"Hi, my fellows little and middles! So, today we are going to talk about what exactly it means to be in a dd/lg relationship and what the truths and myths are…" the cheerful girl announced. Within ten minutes of watching the video Christine found herself more educated than ever.

"So, a common misconception is that dd/lg is a form of pedophelia. It's not! This relationship is between two consenting adults. Just like in all BDSM relationships every little will have a safe word that her daddy will respect."

"Being a little, it's not something you can force and its not for everyone. It's the same with being a daddy. To be a daddy, you are making a promise to your little that you will protect, respect and care for them."

Christine then watched the way the girl on the screen began to gush about her 'daddy'. A few pictures of them popped up on her screen. The girl was propped up in his lap in a skirt and knee socks in most of them, her dom's chin perched on top of her head. She was dressed like a little girl… In all honesty, Christine thought it was damn adorable and she would not mind that so much.

Until the last picture. The girl had a pacifier in her mouth and diaper on. Christine's eyes widened in shock and a bit of discomfort. Then, as if on cue her phone buzzed.

_Hi sweetheart, I just got done with my meeting._

_Hi :)_

After responding she went back to the video and clicked another one, "Middles and Littles: The Difference"

"Ok so, a Little is most often age play. Little ages often range from 0-5. That's like, diapers, pacifiers and sippy cups. These littles obviously are not as independent while they are in little space. Their Daddy usually has to do a lot more for them like feeding, dressing, excetera."

_What are you up to? Have you eaten dinner yet?_

Christine only glanced at the text while she directed her attention to the video again, "Then we have middles. Middles are usually ages 7 and up. Middles are a lot more independent, and they usually are a lot brattier towards their daddy. They dress, feed, and entertain themselves but still are snuggled and all that."

_Sweetheart? Everything okay?_

She quickly clicked off the video and back to their text messages.

_Sorry, I was watching something._

_Anything interesting?_

_Yeah, just looking more into this whole thing._

_Ah, I see._

_Is that okay?_

_I encourage it._

_Then can I ask you a question?_

The typing icon appeared and disappeared three times before he finally responded.

_Of course…_

_So, there is one thing I'm uncomfortable with. The whole diapers and pacifiers thing. Do you like that or…?_

_No. I don't. There is a difference between raising an actual child and then ageplay. I prefer middles to littles if we are being specific._

A feeling of relief washed over her.

_Ok cool._

She went back to the video, watching a man now enter on the screen. He looked… normal. He wore a band tee and jeans. His haircut was normal. He just looked like another person you would see walking on the street.

"Hi baby…" she heard him say affectionately. The way the girl looked up at him with endearing and loving eyes made Christine's heart ache. It was obvious the relationship between the pair was sacred to both. The more she looked into this lifestyle, the more she almost realised dd/lg couples may even have a stronger connection than vanilla couples.

"Hi daddy." she whispered while on her knees in front of him. Christine's eyes were glued to the mans hand as he stroked his littles face lovingly.

_How was school?_

Christine saw the notification but swiped away at it quickly as the man on her screen revealed a pink teddy bear from behind his back.

_Christine, I do not enjoy being ignored._

She sighed and went back to her text messages,

_Sorry, I'm still watching these videos. It would be easier if we could just talk._

_I know- how about this, you call me and I will mute my microphone but you can talk as much as you'd like._

Christine raised her brows as his offer, it was tempting but she couldn't figure out why he wouldn't let her hear his voice.

_Ok let me call you._

_Good girl._

It was odd, those two simple words made her heart flutter and her stomach cramp. She went up into the corner of her screen and hit the phone button. It only rang twice before he picked up she swore she could hear a breath on the other side of the line but she ignored it.

"Hi" she said simply.

 _Hi sweetheart,_ he typed in response.

"So this is my voice, I guess." She said awkwardly,

_Sweeter than I imagined._

They spent the rest of the night with Christine contently talking away with him and him typing responses. They also began to stream a movie together, _The Princess Bride_ which was one of Christine's favorites from when she was a little girl. When the movie was over Christine was dozing off to sleep until Erik finally texted her one more time,

_You should go to bed, it's late and you have class tomorrow._

Her reply was simple and came naturally.

_Goodnight Daddy._

_Goodnight, Princess._

—

The next day Christine sat on the couch watching a movie on her laptop while texting with Erik. She told him all about her day at classes and then at work. She told him about the nice old lady that gave her a twenty dollar tip at work this afternoon, and how she told her she reminded her of her granddaughter. She told him about on the way home from the bus stop she saw the first spring flowers blooming and how she wanted to pick them so badly to keep them in her apartment, but she doubted she could keep them alive for very long.

She babbled and rambled to him, and he would type his responses as fast as he could to her rapid fire stories, thoughts and ideas. The topic was liable to change at least every thirty seconds. She loved that she could go on and on and he would always listen to her, or pretend like he was listening to her at least. It didn't matter, she just didn't feel alone anymore.

"Daddy, did you read that thing I sent you about how in Paris, you can tour all of the pretty opera houses and the catacombs down there?" She asked as she slurped on her Ramen Noodles for dinner, watching the movie play on her laptop screen. She looked at the window where their chats were, she didn't see him typing as he usually would, "Daddy?" She asked softly, setting down her bowl and placing her laptop on her lap and looking in the corner to see if she had lost her internet connection. It was fine. "Daddy are you there?" She asked again, waiting for a response. She sat there, feeling the familiar race of her heart begin. He always responded right away when they were on voice, "Daddy are you okay?" She asked, hearing the slight tremble emerge as well.

Christine let out a great sigh trying to calm herself down. She was being silly. This was just a man on the internet, yes she was very attached to him anyways, but still she was being silly.

"Calm down Christine…" she mumbled quietly to herself, trying to tell herself that he was still on the phone but he probably just got busy with something for work. She sat there trying to turn her attention back to the movie he had picked out for them to watch together on a stream. His icon was still there, he was still in the movie stream with her.

 _Daddy are you here?_ She typed. There was still no response. Then she just starting shaking a bit,

"Daddy!" She said a little bit louder. Then, finally, she saw the notification of him typing.

_Princess? Are you okay? Sorry, I needed to get some water and answer a call._

She let out a sigh of relief. "Yeah, sorry. I was being silly, I just wondered where you went." She said brushing her hair behind her ear.

_No, my fault. I should've told you, I apologize._

"It's okay. Is everything okay?"

_Yes. Family issues._

"Oh. I get it." She said softly. She then found herself seriously wondering what his voice would should like on the phone and wishing he would call her. What did his voice even sound like?

"Hey Daddy?" She asked sweetly,

_Yes princess?_

"Um, can I-m you can say no, but um- Can I talk to you?" She said softly.

_We are talking princess. What do you mean?_

"Well… I want to hear your voice. I- Well I've been a good girl, and I was wondering if we could start voice chatting. Both of us, I mean." She answered. For a few seconds, there was no sign of typing. Then he notification appeared, and disappeared. Then again,

_You have been a very good girl._

"Mhm." She said, a smile breaking through,

_Fine. Give me a second._

Her heart practically leapt out of her chest. She was going to hear his voice! After two weeks of just her talking and him typing she would hear him. She sat there, patiently staring at the screen. A few seconds passed, and then a minute. She heard her phone ding, and she picked it up, seeing a text from her boss to pick up a shift tomorrow night. Every ounce of her wanted to say no-

The un-muting notification came off of her laptop. He was unmuted.

"Daddy?" She asked softly,

"Hi Princess." No. There was no way his voice could sound like that. Be that deep and smooth. It wasn't possible. "Princess? Are you there?" Oh dear god, that was his voice. His timbre dark and soothing. She cleared her throat,

"H- hi Daddy," she said softly, finding herself blushing.

"Are you happy now?"

"Yes, Daddy. I'm very happy." She said, smiling.

"Good," he chuckled. Dear god. His laugh. It was melodic.

"Daddy, I- I like your voice. A lot." She stuttered, not sure how else to tell him.

"Hmm. Thank you, sweetheart."

"So, can we do this from now on? Instead of you just typing?" She asked hopefully.

"If you are a good girl, and behave yourself, I don't see why not. Now at least I can call you during the day on your breaks and such."

"Oh, well if I got breaks at work, yeah you could," she huffed out in a laugh. There was a silence on the other side of the phone.

"Where do you work again, sweetheart?"

"A coffee shop downtown- it's okay. I mean- the pay isn't great but I like it alright."

"I remember those days…"

"You worked in a coffee shop?"

"...no but I didn't have the best jobs for a long time. When I was your age- not a time I enjoy reflecting too deeply on," he grumbled through the phone.

"Oh."

"Anyways, I have to go for a bit. I have a few things to take care of."

"Oh well, I'll talk to you later."

"Text me. Before you go to bed, okay?"

"I will," she answered softly. "I promise."

"Good girl," he said softly. "I'll talk to you later, okay? And I will call you tomorrow."

"Okay…"

"Bye, princess."

"Bye, Daddy."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're off. Smut scene #1. Reminder that this is a BDSM based fic and as such certain things may squick some of you out. Nothing major in this chapter but I will add applicable trigger warnings right up here in an authors note for chapters they may apply to. Enjoy!

Christine was absolutely overwhelmed with life in general. She had three tests coming up on the same day, her co-worker was continuously calling in and the shift manager, who seemed to have it out for her, kept forcing her over to cover.

By the time she stumbled in the door it was eight seventeen and she was exhausted. So utterly exhausted that she didn't even make it past the living room; she collapsed onto her ratty old couch and pulled out her phone, scrolling to Erik's contact and hitting call.

It was past their usual time - normally he would call around six thirty but that hadn't happened in at least a week now.

"Hey princess," he answered on the third ring, his voice smooth and warm. "You're late."

She sighed, pulling her feet up on the edge of the couch. "I know," she answered softly. "Work held me over again and the bus was late and - I'm sorry, Daddy. I should've texted you but they didn't even give me a minute and -"

"It's okay," he answered gently. "How was work? Other than being held over."

"I smell like espresso and people are rude," she huffed, using her toes to push her tennis shoes off without bothering to untie them. "But a few dropped a dollar in the tip cup so that's an extra fifty cents I guess."

He hummed warmly. "Espresso is a much better smell than fryer grease. You sound stressed."

"I do?" she asked, biting her lip and wondering how much of her irritated attitude had managed to shine through.

"You do," he confirmed. "Are you stressed out sweetheart?"

"Yeah, a little bit," she sighed, slumping back on the couch.

He was silent for a long moment and then, in the quiet, she heard him shift. "Tell me what you're stressed out about."

"A little bit of everything I think," she admitted. "I don't mind the overtime - I really need it, my rent is due next week - but it's been every day this week and I have so many tests. I know that it's not that much but it feels like it is and I'm really overwhelmed right now."

"You need to relax," he answered slowly.

"I don't have time to," she argued with a huff.

He chuckled, the laugh warm and smooth, and she shivered. "You have more time than you think, princess."

"I don't know how to," she admitted, the words nothing more than a whisper. The truth was that she had no idea what she was doing - she had no idea how much her dad had actually taken care of; the day she started paying bills had been a serious eye opener for her. Not only had she lost her biggest supporter and best friend, she had been thrown headfirst into an adulthood that she hadn't been ready for and she was still struggling to find her footing.

She could hear the tapping of fingers against wood, slow and rhythmic and thoughtful. "Do you want me to help you?"

"Relax?" she asked, her cheeks flushing.

"Yes, relax sweetheart."

She was fairly certain she knew exactly where this was heading and despite the sudden heat in her cheeks and the embarrassment burning in her chest the thought of it was almost exhilarating. "Do you think you can?" she squeaked out, mortified by the tight sound of her voice.

"If I didn't I wouldn't be offering," he murmured. "It's up to you. I will never force you into anything you don't want. Do you want me to help you?"

She swallowed hard, biting her lip as she nodded slowly. She realized, of course, that he couldn't see the gesture through the phone and after a shaky breath she steeled herself. "Yeah," she breathed quietly.

"Yes?" he answered, his voice soothing and gentle. "Then you have to listen to me, princess. Where are you in your apartment?"

"I'm - I'm on the couch," she answered shakily.

"And nervous," he observed carefully. "You don't need to be. I can't even see you. Are you still in your uniform?"

"Yeah, I didn't - the first thing I did when I got home was call you," she said meekly.

"Because you are a good girl," he said warmly. "You have been a very good girl, sweetheart. I want you to get up and go into your bedroom."

She wasn't sure why her legs were shaking but they were; she made her way slowly into her bedroom trying to ignore the palpitations of her heart. "Okay," she said quietly. "I'm in my room."

"Take off your uniform," he instructed easily. "Are the lights on or off?"

"They're off," she answered, holding the phone between her ear and shoulder as she popped the button of her pants and unzipped them, slowly pushing them off. "Do you want me to turn them on?"

"No. I want you to do whatever is comfortable right now," he said. "I want you to put the phone on speaker. Set it by your bed and tell me when your uniform is off."

She obeyed his blunt instructions, putting the phone on speaker and sitting it on the mattress directly next to her pillow before she stripped her top off, shivering in the draft of her apartment. "Okay," she said quietly, trying so hard to hide the tremble in her voice.

"Okay?" he asked softly. "Is it off?"

"Yeah. It's off," she answered, wrapping her arms around herself for warmth.

"Good girl." The praise and warmth in his deep, smooth voice sent a tingle straight up her spine. She wasn't sure how he managed to use such a simple phrase so effectively. There was power in his voice and he seemed to know just how to use it. "If you haven't yet, take off your bra and panties too, sweetheart."

Her bra was always a struggle - the clasp was worn and bent - but she managed to break it loose, adding it and her simple white panties to the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. She felt oddly vulnerable, standing naked in the middle of her bedroom with him on the other end of the phone. It was silly, she knew that, he couldn't see her but that didn't make her feel any less awkward. "It's really cold in my apartment, Daddy," she whispered, the title coming more and more easily every time she used it.

"Then we will have to warm you up won't we, princess?" he asked softly. "Go ahead and lay down. You can get under the covers if you need to. I want you to be nice and comfortable."

She climbed quietly into her bed, sliding under the sheets as she listened intently to the silence. She swore she could hear the shifting of fabric on the other side of the phone as she settled back against her pillow, staring up at the ceiling. "Okay. I'm comfortable, Daddy."

He hummed thoughtfully. "That sounds like a lie, princess," he pointed out. "Tell me what's on your mind."

"It's cold in here and I don't... " her sentence ended in a huff. "I've never done this before."

"Masturbated?"

His blunt question caused an instant blush and Christine shivered. "No, I mean… like this, Daddy."

"On the phone," he murmured. "I can't see you, sweetheart. There is absolutely nothing to be nervous about. I want you to close your eyes."

"Okay," she said softly, following his directions and letting her eyes flutter closed.

"Good girl," he said warmly in just that same way. "Do you want to know what I would do if I was there with you right now, princess?"

"Yes, Daddy," she breathed, shifting on the mattress.

"I'd like to kiss you first," his warm words came. "I think that's important, don't you? Your lips first, princess. Would you like me to kiss you?"

"Mhm," she hummed, brushing the pads of her fingers over her lips. With his warm voice in her ear she could almost feel it - the gentle brush of warm lips against hers. She had no frame of reference, no idea what color his hair or eyes were, what his face looked like, but she knew, with certainty, that his lips would be soft.

"I'd like to be slow with this first time," he said softly. "I'd like to take my time and get to know you. The second thing I would kiss is your pretty little throat, right under your jaw and slowly further down. I'd like to test your pulse with my lips, sweetheart. Your little heart is hammering right now, isn't it?"

Her first attempt at an answer was a shaky breath; her second attempt was a weak, trembling "Please, Daddy." Her fingers slowly followed the path he laid out for his lips and she shivered.

He hummed deep in his throat. "Such a good girl," he mumbled. "I would, of course, have to take some time with your pretty little nipples, sweetheart."

She brushed her thumb over her right nipple, letting out a quiet, shaky moan. She felt the oddest thrumming sensation just below her skin. Every nerve she had was on edge and every sensation seemed so intense - every brush of her fingers and every word he breathed sent a thrill straight up her spine and to her scalp.

"Tell me," he said softly. "Would you like my mouth or my fingers first, princess?"

"Your mouth, Daddy," she answered on a gasp.

"Hm. Ask nicely, princess."

"Ple- please," she breathed, her fingers trailing slowly over her stomach. "Please could I have your mouth first, Daddy?"

"Good girl," he whispered. "Of course you can, sweetheart. I'm just as desperate to taste you… if you haven't already you can touch yourself, princess."

With his permission she finally let her fingers slide down, finding her clit already swollen and sensitive. Her hips jerked reflexively and the gasp that she let out was completely unintentional.

"Slow," he murmured. "I want you to go slowly just like I would, sweetheart. Let yourself enjoy the feeling. We have all the time in the world."

Christine obeyed him, slowly circling her clit with the pad of her middle finger. She took a shaky breath and settled back against her pillow, doing her best to relax. As she breathed she swore she heard… well, _something_ in the quiet on the other end of the line. "Daddy…" she breathed.

"Hmm?" he hummed, letting the silence sit for just a moment. "What, princess?"

"Daddy, are you… are you touching yourself too?" she whispered.

"I am," he answered softly. "One finger, sweetheart. Inside of you."

While she couldn't draw herself a mental picture of his lips, his mouth, his hair, she had the pieces to put together an image of his body. She could picture him sprawled out in a chair, his pants halfway down his thighs, that hand that she had been picturing on her breast wrapped around - her moan was far louder and more crass than she had intended for it to be when she slid a finger inside of herself. She wasn't sure when the last time she had been so aroused and on edge was.

"Oh what a good, good girl," he groaned on the other end of the phone. "God I wish I could see you, princess. Spread your pretty legs open. You can add another finger if you need to."

She took his permission eagerly, sliding a second finger inside of herself and spreading her thumb over her pubic mound. She ground crudely against her own palm, gasping at the sensation of fullness and her clit rubbing against her warm palm.

"Oh, sweetheart." His voice was gruff now, his words no longer smooth and careful. Something about it was only more exciting, hearing his calculated control slip. "Just thinking of you there, thinking of me, touching yourself - tell me, princess. When you're close."

"Daddy, please," she whimpered. She wasn't sure what exactly she was asking for - him, maybe. More of his voice, his actual touch. Maybe she was asking for relief from the searing heat in her blood. She wasn't sure why but she felt compelled to breathe the words.

She rutted against her own hand, her legs spread wide on the bed as she listened to his groan on the other end of the line. At any other time, with any other person, she may have found herself embarrassed. She would think about how weird it was, how gross and animalistic and unnecessary. With him, though, the thought barely touched her mind. Instead she simply craved.

"Daddy, Daddy I - I -"

"Are you going to cum, princess?" he asked in that rough tone.

She felt the telltale tremble in her thighs. "I - I'm close, Daddy."

"Beg for it."

His words were firm and demanding and, even knowing that he was cities and miles away and there was nothing that he could physically do to compel her to obey, she found it nearly impossible to refuse. "Please," she whimpered, arching her back as she tried to press her clit just a bit more firmly against her palm. "Please, Daddy, please. I need to cum, please."

He hummed that same warm, pleased hum that he always did. "Not without my permission. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Daddy, _please_." Her words were desperate. She wasn't sure where her sudden confidence had come from - any other time she would have been mortified by what was taking place but here, now, she couldn't find it in herself to be.

"Beg," he repeated, the word clipped and short. "Not yet."

"Please, please, _please can I cum_ ," she whimpered, the words flowing from her lips without any thought on her end. "I need - Daddy, I need to please, please, I need to cum, Daddy, please please _please_."

"Good girl." This time the words were breathless but still the phrase sent a chill of pleasure straight to her core. "Cum, princess. You can cum."

To her utter surprise, the simple phrase in his deep voice was enough to push her right over the edge. She gasped, her head pressing back against the pillow, and after the initial surge of warmth and pleasure she was surprised to find herself almost dizzy. She heard his groan - she listened far more closely for it than she thought she had been - and for a long moment after the only thing filling the silence was the heavy breathing on both sides of the phone.

"Are you okay, princess?" he asked eventually, his voice back to that smooth tone despite the fact that he hadn't quite caught his breath.

She bit her lip, rolling on her side and curling herself up near the phone. "I'm… I'm really good, Daddy," she admitted, her muscles feeling loose and her mind quiet for the first time in months.

"Good," he said softly. "Do you have a bathtub in your apartment, sweetheart?"

"Yeah. I do," she answered, trying to piece together why on earth that would be the first coherent question to come to him.

"You don't have to go yet," he murmured. "I'll stay on the phone with you for as long as you want but I want you to take a nice warm bath tonight. When you get out of bed, okay?"

"Okay," she said quietly.

"What's on your mind, princess?"

"Nothing, I just…" she sighed. "I just wish I could meet you, Daddy. That's all. And that I was, well, with you. Like. Actually with you."

"Physically," he supplied for her softly.

"Mhm," she hummed.

"... one day," he said eventually, the words thoughtful. "You will be one day, princess. I promise. As long as you still want to when the time comes."

As it turned out, he had been truthful when he promised her that he would never lie to her, right in that second day. He made no attempt to rush her off of the phone, not even when she lapsed into long silences. He stayed on the line as she ran herself the warm bath he instructed her to take. He stayed on speakerphone when she left the phone on the closed lid of the toilet and climbed into it.

And even as she climbed into bed for the night he was still there. They had been nearly silent but every so often she heard something on the other end of the phone - the rustle of a paper or a soft sigh, footsteps and the clink of dishes - just background noise that reminded her that he was still there.

"Daddy?" she mumbled, burrowing herself back into the sheets of her bed.

"Hm?"

"I'm gonna… I'm going to bed," she said quietly. "I have class in the morning and -"

"I know you do, sweetheart," he said warmly. "Sleep well. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? Text me and let me know when you wake up."

"I will," she mumbled. "... Daddy?"

"Hm?"

"... thank you," she said awkwardly, not really sure what part she was thanking him for.

"You're welcome. Go to sleep, princess. It's getting late and class comes early."

"Goodnight, Daddy," she said, staring at the lit up screen of her phone.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," he answered.

She stared silently at the screen of her phone waiting for him to hang up but he never did. A minute passed, two, and the timer still continued to count up.

Eventually she hit the red end call button, plugging her phone in and setting it on the floor beside her bed before she rolled over, curling up on her side. For the first time in months, she fell almost immediately into sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be completely honest, I don't know what does and doesn't deserve a trigger warning anymore. So warning for mutual masturbation and cam sex. Enjoy! p.s. I promise they'll actually be in the same room soon.

Christine wasn't sure how she ended up on a video chat with him. Obviously she had clicked the camera button. She just wasn't sure how he managed to talk her into it.

He had asked her for a picture the night before. Nothing she was uncomfortable with, he reassured her, just a simple picture of her, right then. So he got a picture of her curled up on her couch, wrapped in a shabby blanket and wearing her pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt. It had been her dad's. Most of her pajama tops were from her dad's wardrobe. They hadn't been able to waste much. She didn't have anyone to get hand-me-downs from and so she had gotten her father's.

He hummed in that warm way that made her stomach somersault and called her beautiful.

When she asked for one in return he hadn't argued the way she expected him to. She stared at the picture for a while. It was taken in much the same way as the picture on his profile was. She began to wonder if Meg was right and he _had_ no head. The top two buttons of his white shirt were undone and his sleeve was rolled halfway up his forearm, the lines of a tattoo peeking out from the edge of his cuff.

She asked him if he had a head at all. He chuckled.

"If I didn't then how would you hear me, sweetheart?" he answered warmly.

She had left it there. He wanted to take things slow, that was what he told her, and all things considered he honestly had been gentle with her so far. He didn't demand much. If he wouldn't show her his face there must be a reason behind it. One day she would ask, she thought, but not that night.

Vaguely, she wondered if he was ugly and that's why he wouldn't send it. Maybe his nose was too big or maybe he had acne. That's what she chose to believe. She didn't mind the thought so much. She had acne sometimes and it made her uncomfortable too. She stared at the picture while he talked to her. His voice was warm and soothing, powerful, and he certainly had a decent body. It was obvious looking at the picture that he had some muscle to him and the teasing of the tattoos only made her more curious. His body was objectively attractive and she would be patient if she needed to be.

But now she was on a video chat with him - well, alone, and she was tugging at the edges of the blanket she had wrapped around her while she stared at the big, black square where he should be.

"Are you anxious, sweetheart?" His smooth voice broke the seemingly unending silence.

She chewed on the inside of her lip and shrugged. The truth was that she was incredibly anxious. He was staring at her. She could almost feel his gaze and she couldn't see him. That was incredibly nerve wracking. Especially when she had no makeup on and her hair was still damp from a shower. She had tried to tell him that she needed fifteen minutes but he told her that there was no need, that he wanted to see her just as she was, and now she felt just a bit too vulnerable. Even Meg had hardly seen her without her makeup and she was like a sister.

"I know that you are. You're fidgeting," he murmured, pausing thoughtfully. "You don't need to be. You are stunning, princess. But if you need to disappear in that blanket it's okay."

Christine hunched over, pulling the blanket tight around her shoulders. "Daddy?"

"Hm?"

"... what color are your eyes?" she asked nervously. He wouldn't show her, for one reason or another, but surely she was allowed to _ask_.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Yellow," he answered eventually. "I think, at least. I've been told that they are amber."

She shifted, running the scratchy fabric of her blanket between her thumb and pointer finger. "I think I would feel a lot better if I could see you too," she tried, mumbling her request.

He was silent for a long time and just when she began to open her mouth to apologize, he sighed. "One day," he said softly. "Not yet. You've been doing very well, sweetheart, and you've been _so_ good. How would you feel about another rule or two?"

She nodded slowly. If she had more rules, and she followed them well, maybe he would let her see him too. "I think I'd be okay with that," she said, looking down at her lap. Looking at the black screen where his image should have been staring back at her was unnerving.

"Just like last time you are allowed to tell me if you don't like one of them," he said. "In fact, I expect you to tell me if they make you uncomfortable. Will you be honest with me, princess?"

She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them, letting her toes hang off of the edge of the couch cushion. "I'll be honest, Daddy," she said softly.

"Good girl," he murmured warmly. "I want you home by eight pm on school nights, nine on other nights unless work interferes or you ask permission first. How do you feel about that?"

"Sometimes I stay with Meg," she said, staring at her image in the corner of the black screen on her laptop.

"I wouldn't keep you from your friends, sweetheart. I want you to have friends. You would only have to ask."

Christine picked at the pilled fabric of her blanket. "If I can still stay with Meg sometimes then I'm okay with it."

"Good," he said softly. "I want you in bed by ten on school nights. Eleven other nights, unless you get permission or you are staying with Meg. Sleep is important and I know you haven't been getting enough of it."

"I try to," she argued. "Sometimes I just can't sleep…"

"You can tell me when that happens, sweetheart. I can try to help you. But I want you to at least try."

"I'll try, Daddy. That one sounds okay too."

He hummed again. He did it often. "Not all of the rules are going to work for you. Nothing is set in stone yet. Just a few weeks to try them out and if we need to we can change them. There are very few that I wouldn't be willing to compromise on."

"... Daddy?"

"What, sweetheart?"

"If I'm really good and I follow all the rules can I see you?"

He sighed. She heard him shift and she wondered if _he_ fidgeted when he was anxious too. "When I think you are ready, and when I am ready, I will let you see me, princess. I promise that you will see me but I'm not going to promise when it will be."

She nodded slowly. "Okay," she said softly.

"It isn't normal, sweetheart," he said softly. "This part. Me not letting you see me. I don't want you to think that it is. You are allowed to question things. I'm not… conventional. That's all. I want to know that you will be okay with it when you do see me."

She worried her lip thoughtfully, staring at her image in the corner of the screen. "You have to trust me too," she said eventually.

"Exactly," he answered, and she could hear his weak smile in his voice. "I have to trust you too. I want you to know me first and know that you can trust me. That's all. I have one more request - it's not a rule and you can say no."

"What is it?"

"From now on, if you can, I want you to call me like this, princess. I want you to get used to me seeing you."

* * *

It got easier, pretending that he couldn't see her. He did a good job of distracting her and she found, as long as she minimized the video window, that it was pretty easy to pretend that they were just on a phone call.

She would put her laptop on the table and spread her homework out in front of her. She would play music and smile and laugh with him just as easily as she did on a voice call.

Besides, it was easier, when she was stumped by something, to hold the paper up to the camera instead of reading it out loud to him. She struggled, mostly in math, and he was a fantastic help. It was frustrating at first. He never gave her the answer, he only asked more questions until she found it. Ultimately, she learned more when she asked him than she did sitting in class for three hours and listening to the monotonous professor drag on and on.

The only time she was distinctly aware of the fact that he was looking at her was when he would make an off-handed comment about how pretty she was, or how he liked the top she was wearing. She didn't mind it so much.

Every so often she would find it in her to ask him for a picture. He would comply with no argument, sending her one just like all of them before. She would greedily deduce everything she could from them - when she managed to catch him in something other than what she decided must be his work clothes she got to see a bit more of the tattoos. She caught him in a loose pair of sleep pants once. Once she even managed to see him in jeans. There were still moments that she believed she was being catfished but as she flipped through the photos, one after another, she began to feel a bit better about it. The tattoos were always on his right side and they lined up the same in each picture. The backgrounds, while they changed minimally, lined up fairly well. She saw the same fancy desk chair in a few of them. Once the background was a hanging mirror on the back of a door - she couldn't see his face but she stared at the reflection of his back. The tattoos went all the way around his arm and his hair was black. His hair was black and his eyes were amber.

She built a picture of what he might look like in her head. She had the pieces to put together a vague image. He was tall, very tall. He had three-quarter sleeve of tattoos. He had black hair and amber eyes and while he wasn't overly muscular he was sturdily built. She had no doubt that he had some strength to him.

When he sent her a shirtless picture she was sure her surprise came across through her crappy webcam. He hadn't said anything when he sent it and he was silent as she stared at it. She ran her thumb over his right arm, staring at the artistic skulls there. His tattoos were done well. The three quarter sleeve melded together seamlessly and she saw the way the petals of a flower peeked over the waistband of his sleep pants. He was sculpted. While he didn't have a six pack, not in the traditional sense, she could see the lean muscles there, his defined pecs.

"What do you think, sweetheart?" he finally asked.

She chewed her lip, staring at the picture. "... I really like your tattoos, Daddy," she answered eventually. It was the most he had given her so far and she was still soaking it in.

"You do?" he asked softly. She nodded and he chuckled. "I'm glad, princess."

They carried on that way for seven days. One week of curfew and bedtime and Christine found it wasn't too bad. She was usually home early anyway and the little bit of extra sleep honestly did make her feel a lot better in general.

It was on the eighth night that she couldn't sleep. She texted him at ten thirty at night and at ten thirty five she was staring at the blank box where he should be on her laptop while he talked low and quietly to her.

"What's on your mind, princess?" he murmured.

She shrugged, tugging at the hem of her shirt anxiously.

"You have something going on in that head of yours," he said softly. "I can see it. You always do. Do you want to know what I think?"

She nodded slowly, avoiding looking at the camera.

"I think that you have a lot of stress," he said softly. "I think that you have a lot of anxiety that you don't really know what to do with. That's why you have those scars, isn't it, sweetheart?"

Christine knew that he had seen them. It was hard not to see them when they criss-crossed her forearms and webbed along her hips. She hated the scars. She hated that he knew exactly what they were. She wrapped her arms around herself. "Yeah," she admitted, her voice shaking. "I think - I think it could be."

He was quiet for a long moment. "I can help you sleep, princess," he said eventually, his voice soft. "But just like last time you have to trust me. You have to listen. You have to let me turn off all that noise in your head."

She was silent for a moment. She knew exactly what he was proposing and even though the idea of it - him _seeing_ her, _watching_ her do it - made her nervous, she still felt that same flutter of excitement in her stomach. He had listened to her already. "I trust you, Daddy," she mumbled nervously. "I - I want to try."

"Take off your shirt," he instructed softly.

Her fingers shook but she did it anyway, hunching over slightly.

"Good girl," he murmured, ignoring the way she hid. "Your pajama pants too, princess."

She shimmied them down her hips, letting them fall to the floor.

"Spread your legs, sweetheart," he breathed.

The only coherent thought Christine had as she set one heel on each side of the laptop on the coffee table was that she needed to remember to wear matching bras and panties when they video chatted from now on.

"Look at you," he said softly, his voice warm and gentle. "You're already wet for me, sweetheart. You know, if you ever want this you _are_ allowed to ask for it. You have such a pretty moan, princess."

She ran her already sweaty palms over her hips with a trembling "Daddy…"

"Touch yourself, princess," he instructed calmly. "Through your panties. I want to see just how wet you can get for me."

She heard the rustle of fabric when her fingers found the damp fabric that he could see. She couldn't help the way her hips rolled against her hand when she brushed against her already sensitive clit. She gave a breathy moan and he hummed in that warm way that she had become so familiar with.

"Such a good, _good_ girl," he mumbled.

"Daddy…" she moaned out, her finger circling faster.

"Slow down princess. Take your time, draw it out just like I would," he whispered. She slowed her pace, allowing herself to have coherent thoughts for a moment and then she heard the rasp of clothing.

"Daddy?" she asked in a whimper.

"What princess?" he asked melodiously.

"Are you - are you touching yourself?"

"... perhaps I am. How does that make you feel little one?"

"Daddy, I- I want to see you," she heard the words leave her mouth but couldn't believe she said it.

"... Princess, I told you, not yet-"

"Daddy, not like that…" she whimpered,

"... Does my naughty girl want to see Daddy's throbbing cock? To see now hard I am for you?"

"Mhmm" she mewled, making the circles faster again.

"Do not stop touching yourself," he said. She could hear the rustle of clothing, and then the shuffling around of his laptop being maneuvered, no doubt so she couldn't see him from the neck up how he did when he sent her the only picture of him she had.

She kept rubbing slow circles, staring at the box where he should be as there was a momentary flash of light. A lean, bare torso filled her screen. He was there. The camera angled to cut off just above his collar bone. He was was clad in dress pants, the silver of his belt buckle was the only color. He was… not just skinny but lean muscle was obvious. His chest and abdomen rising and falling with his deep breaths. A thin line of hair down his stomach, and patchy hair on his chest. The most eye catching thing was the black ink on his right side, arm, and hand that now rested over the large bulge, straining through his pants.

"Why are you staring, Princess?"

" I- I like your tattoos, Daddy," she said, momentarily stopping touching herself, so she could focus on ogling at him.

"Did I say you could stop touching yourself little one?" he growled at her. She shook her head while biting her lip, returning her hand to her now drenched underwear, and rubbing herself teasingly slowly. She kept her eyes trained on the screen the whole time, watching the way his palm keep rubbing over where the head of his erection would be on his thigh. He certainly was not small in the slightest…

"Good girl. You are being so good. You can take off your panties, sweetheart."

She shed them as soon as his permission was given, kicking them off her ankles, and returning her legs to the spreading position.

"Oh god, you're dripping babygirl," he murmured, looking at the slick lips of her sex. "I'm so hard for you Princess, do you want to see?"

"Yes Daddy…" she breathed. He slowly unlatched his belt, the sound of the metal making goosebumps appear on her skin. He popped the button open, and brought the zipper down. She could see the black boxer briefs he wore peeking through, as well as another tattoo on his right hip bone. He lifted his hips up shimmying his pants down, kicking them off somewhere on the floor. The only barrier was his boxers. He ran his palm over the covered shaft, letting out a small groan,

"One finger in, princess," he rasped. She did as she was told, pressing her middle finger inside of herself while letting out a shy moan. "Good girl."

He reached into the slit cut into the front of his boxers, running his fingers over his now throbbing cock that was begging for attention. He began to pull himself out slowly. She watched at full attention while slowly dragging her finger in and out of herself.

He pulled himself out, standing fully erect. She could see the tease of a few curls of hair that escaped the confines of his boxers. Thick veins ran along the shaft, the lines defined up to the perfect sculpt of the head. A single bead of precum glistened in the dull yellow light and when his hand closed around the base of his cock it hardly covered him. He ran his hand up once slowly, teasingly, following the slight upward curve. He began to stroke himself, low groans from deep in his chest coming through the speakers of her computer.

"Do you see how hard Daddy is for you, princess?" he moaned out, his thumb rubbing over the drips of precum from the head of cock.

"Daddy please…" she moaned, picking up speed and moving her other hand to caress herself through her bra.

"Take that off princess, let me see your beautiful body," he growled, stroking himself a bit faster. She sat up, not even unhooking it but just pulling it over her head, "You're so beautiful," he said almost breathlessly. She pinched and twisted at her rosy nipple, moaning softly. Erik grasped himself tighter,

"Two fingers princess," he instructed breathlessly, sighing as she followed his instruction and slid her ring finger inside of herself. "You are such a good girl," he moaned.

"I wish you were here, Daddy," she whimpered, watching the mesmerizing movement of his hand along his shaft, attempting to match his pace with the drag of her fingers.

"Oh princess," he groaned. She watched his chest tremble with the struggling breath that he took, the clench of the muscles of his stomach. "I do too, babygirl."

Her head fell back against the couch, tilted forward so that she could continue to watch him. Her toes curled against the edge of the coffee table as her eyes traced over the the tattoo on his right hip, trying to finish the image in her mind that was cut short by the elastic band of his boxers. "Daddy," she breathed. "Daddy, will you please take off your boxers?"

His hand twisted on the shaft of his cock and he groaned, leaning forward the slightest bit. "If you are good," he rasped. "If you are a good girl, then maybe next time princess."

"Daddy, please!" she cried out, her breaths rasping as her fingers picked up speed again, thrusting in time with his strokes. That seemed to be all it took; he stood up rapidly and yanked the boxers down with haste, his hand still wrapped around his cock, his grip tightening slightly.

She opened her hazy eyes as he sat down, and she was able to see the rose that took up most of his right hip bone. In the petals, music notes were woven in. It was beautiful.

"Thank you, Daddy," she gasped as she was able to hit the spot that brought that familiar feeling of edging closer to the brink of finishing.

His breath caught and he groaned, leaning back in his chair and affording her the opportunity to see just a sliver of the skin of his throat. "Did that feel good, princess?" he whispered, his voice rough. She nodded and he twisted his hand again, groaning. "Do it again."

She dragged her fingers along the spot again, feeling a tingle go up her spine as she whimpered.

"Again, princess."

"Oh," she breathed as she caught against that spot again. She felt her thighs tremble. "Daddy, please," she whimpered.

"Not yet," he rasped, his right hand resting on his knee. "Again, babygirl."

All of her might was concentrated on fighting off the hazy pleasure as she dragged against that spot inside of herself again. She groaned in frustration, shifting her hips slightly in an effort to ease the building pressure. " _Please_ , daddy," she begged desperately, hardly able to catch her breath.

His fingers curled tightly around his knee, his other hand tugging himself just a bit more quickly. "Again. Don't stop, princess," he instructed breathlessly. "Please what?"

"Please Daddy, can I cum?" she whimpered, her hips now bucking almost against her will.

"Not yet, princess," he rasped, tugging himself firmly. "You are being such a good girl - so patient. You are _my_ little girl, _my_ princess, aren't you?"

She could feel the frustrated tears prick at her eyes and she bit her lip as she nodded, holding her breath to stave off the terrible burning pleasure as she dragged her fingers again and again against that spot inside of herself, trembling under the weight of the orgasm that she fought off desperately.

"Tell me, princess. Tell me that you're mine."

" _I'm yours, Daddy_ ," she groaned, her voice tight and strained.

"Good girl," he rasped, his hand moving quickly and desperately now. She watched as the muscles in his thighs tensed, the knuckles of the hand on his knee going white. "Good girl - cum, princess. You can cum but do not stop."

Relieved, she gasped, dragging her fingers against that spot inside of herself again and again. "Thank you, Daddy," she whimpered, feeling her own lip tremble with the powerful build-up and the relief of no longer trying to hold it back.

"Mm, good girl, you're welcome," he breathed, his hand tightening around himself. "Say my name, babygirl. I want to hear you cry my name in pleasure."

Her head fell back as her fingers worked inside of her, again and again she brushed against that spot until even her toes trembled. She gasped, lifting her hips slightly.

"Good girl," he groaned through clenched teeth. "Cum for me, princess. Let go."

When she came the pleasure was so great it was nearly pain, scorching and hot. " _Erik_ ," she sobbed, her hips stuttering against her fingers out of natural instinct. _Don't stop_ , he had said. Despite the tender, heightened sensations in that time just afterwards she continued to touch herself, allowing her fingers to move gently and lazily as she coaxed herself through the orgasm.

She heard the way that he groaned and she forced her eyes onto the screen, biting her lip as she watched the uncontrolled way that he breathed, his chest tight. He leaned just a bit too far forward and that - oh, it was his chin!

He dipped just a bit lower and she saw it - the perfect shape of his bottom lip. She stared, entranced. Her eyes followed along the curve of the lip and over to - what was that? A thin plastic edge of white on the right side - the left only showed smooth, slightly tanned skin. Did he wear a mask?

"Princess," he groaned breathlessly. She watched his lip move with the word and oh, it was really him. She knew that it was but still - there was always a burning doubt in the back of her mind. "Keep going, babygirl. Don't stop until I tell you to."

She nodded, following his instructions as she stared at the sliver of his face that she was allowed to see. He leaned back, moving out of the camera and she whimpered, sore and exhausted.

When he came it was with a groan, his hand tight around himself as he spilled over his fingers. One, two, three more slow strokes and he leaned back, his chest heaving. "Stop, princess. You can stop now babygirl."

She rested her slick fingers on the inside of her thigh, sliding back on the cushion of the couch and finally letting her bare feet find the floor again. "Daddy?"

"What babygirl?"

There were so many questions she wanted to ask him in that moment - did he wear a mask? Why couldn't she see him? _Why_ did he wear a mask? Instead she sighed, worrying her lip. "Thank you for letting me see you," she murmured, pulling her knees up on the couch as she stared at his body on her screen.

He hummed, leaned forward just the slightest bit and then suddenly the place where she had just seen him was nothing but a big black box again. "You're welcome, princess," he said softly. "How do you feel?"

She pulled the blanket off of the back of the couch and wrapped it around herself just like she had the first time he got her on a video chat. "Exposed," she murmured, smiling weakly. "But I do feel tired now."

"You can put your pajamas back on if you want to," he said softly. "You can turn off the camera while you do it if it helps."

She did exactly that, clicking the camera button and waiting until she saw her image disappear before she unwrapped the blanket from around her.

"I want you to take your laptop to bed with you," he murmured. She could hear him moving in the background. "I'm going to stay on with you until you fall asleep."

He knew that she wasn't well off. She knew that. If she was she wouldn't be using such an old, scratchy blanket. She would have pajamas that fit and tops that didn't have holes in the collar. She was still embarrassed by it. She did her best to hide it. "Thank you, Daddy," she mumbled sleepily. In all honesty, it had worked. She feel utterly exhausted.

She didn't want him to see her room. She didn't want him to see the plain dresser with the chipping paint or the mirror that hung crookedly because one of the fastenings on the back had broken off. She didn't want him to see that her bed wasn't really a bed but was instead just a mattress and a box spring that rested directly on the floor. She left the camera off until she got the laptop into her bedroom. She dragged one of the boxes that held her makeup over to the edge of the bed and put the laptop on it. It would look enough like a bedside table instead of the floor.

She didn't click the camera back on until she was in bed, wrapped up in her blankets to her chin.

He talked mindlessly to her with his warm, soothing voice and she let herself listen, she let herself close her heavy eyelids and when she drifted off to sleep it was only just after eleven thirty.


	6. Chapter 6

_Princess, what is your address?_

Christine stared at the text message for far longer than she should have, worrying her lip as she remembered Meg's words. 'Chris, you don't actually know this guy. What if he's a serial killer or something? Like, it's all fun and games on the computer but you're taking this pretty seriously and it's scaring me.'

 _Why Daddy?_ She typed out, hitting send and worrying her lip.

There was a long break in the messages. She wasn't sure why she was worried she had upset him - after all, like Meg said, it was all fun and games through a computer screen and separated by states. So why did her stomach twist at the thought of upsetting him? Why was she suddenly terrified that she wouldn't hear from him again?

_Princess, what is your address?_

She scrolled back up, wondering if she had misread the first message but - no, it was exactly the same. Had he hit send twice? She looked down the hallway of the school before she turned her attention back to the dim screen of her phone.

_Why do you need my add-_

Before she could even finish typing out the message her phone buzzed again. _I have something that I want to send to you._

She chewed her lip nervously as she stared at the message. Was there harm in it? She could admit that it was dangerous to give your address out to strangers - then again they weren't really _strangers_ anymore, were they? He had seen her, all of her, and she had seen _most_ of him. They had spoken. She heard his voice.

_It's a surprise, princess. If you are nervous you don't have to tell me._

Surely it wouldn't be so bad to give him the _building_ number. He still wouldn't know what apartment…

 _They'll keep it at the front desk and buzz me down_ she answered, tacking on the address of her building.

_That's fine princess, thank you. You'll be home by five?_

_Four thirty, Daddy_ she responded, wondering what he had planned for her.

_Okay._

She stared at her phone for a while waiting to see if he elaborated but he left it there. She sighed, slipped her phone into her pocket, slung her backpack over her shoulder and made her way to her next class.

* * *

Christine loathed public transportation. She reminded herself every day as she found a spot on the bus - today between a coughing man and a woman with a screaming baby - that she couldn't afford a car, that even if she could the dense traffic already made her anxious even when she wasn't driving, that she was doing her part and helping the environment. She tried, hard as she could, to be positive about most things.

It didn't always work. It reminded her a lot of the hours her and her dad spent waiting in the lobbies of emergency clinics. They had spent a lot of time there, especially in the last year or so before he passed. The worst had been the ER waiting room. The man that was sitting next to her, hacking his lung up into a handkerchief, reminded her way too much of it.

She pulled out her phone, glancing around to make sure no one was looking at her, before she opened up the web browser, navigating back to that website she had met him on.

Christine hadn't been on Fetlife since he gave her his number. She hadn't really found a reason to be. But now she was bored and trying to kill twenty minutes.

Not much had changed. She scrolled through the new comments on her pictures, deleting them one by one. She opened her message inbox. Thirty messages, most of them explicit, some halfway decent. She clicked into each message, read it, and promptly deleted them until the only thing left in her inbox was the conversation with Erik. She wondered who she needed to lobby to get a mass-delete button. It was tedious picking through everything one-by-one.

She opened their conversation and then she clicked on Erik's username, opening up his profile. She wasn't really sure why she did it. There wasn't really anything she expected to change, but something had. There, just under his username and "looking for" list there was an extra line of text.

_D/s relationship status: Protecting LittleLotte_

She stared at it for a while. She clicked the hyperlink and got looped back to her own profile. Christine wasn't sure if she liked the fact that she hadn't received a notification when she was listed there but something about seeing it made her heart race with excitement, even if she didn't fully understand the status.

She was halfway up the hallway to her apartment when she opened her texts. _I'm home, Daddy. Can I call you in 15 minutes?_

There was a long pause before her phone buzzed. _Of course_.

Christine unlocked the door and quickly locked it behind her, doing up the chain lock and tripping over a sweatshirt on the floor as she hurried into her bedroom. She paused only long enough to grab the sweatshirt.

She tossed it toward the pile of dirty clothes that sat next to the laundry hamper. She couldn't put them _in_ the hamper because it was still full of clean clothes from the last load of laundry she had done. Christine was trying to be better about it but by the time she got home in the evenings it was hard to find the motivation to do much of anything. It wasn't a new dilemma - it had been that way for a long time now. Meg said she was worried about Christine but the truth was she was just exhausted, mentally and physically.

She changed her clothes quickly. Ever since they began video chatting Christine had been pretty careful about what she wore. She tried her best to pick out decent clothes, nothing with holes or big stains. She always changed her underwear. She didn't really own any _sexy_ underwear but she had some with cute polka dots and she opted to wear that kind instead of her _granny panties_ , as Meg had so affectionately labeled them. It wasn't always necessary - she didn't strip down to nothing for him every night - but if he asked her to she liked knowing that she was at least presentable.

Christine grabbed her laptop and charger. The laptop was on it's last leg and the first thing she had to do when she got to the kitchen was plug it in. It's battery lasted closer to seconds than minutes, that was why all of her notes in class were on paper now. It was an old, clunky thing to carry around, the fan was loud and it took a few minutes to boot up after the battery died. It was too much effort to try to rely on it and she was half afraid that she would fill it with notes and it would die completely and leave her with nothing to study.

She clicked the power button and tidied up the background as well as she could, smoothing the blanket that was thrown over the back of the couch and picking up the socks that she had abandoned in the middle of the floor. By the time she made it back from the dirty clothes pile in the corner of her room her laptop had booted up.

She had just opened up the program to call him when her intercom buzzed and the bored lady that sat the desk mumbled that there was a delivery for her.

Her curiosity got the best of her and she made her way downstairs before she called him. She wasn't sure what she had expected but it certainly wasn't a warm styrofoam take-out box.

She didn't open it until she was back in her apartment. She pried open the lid and found chicken strips, french fries and a container of ranch dressing. She hit call before she dared to take a single bite.

He answered almost immediately with a soft "You are exactly three minutes late."

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she mumbled. "... did you send me dinner?"

He was silent for a long moment. "I did," he answered eventually. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I wasn't sure what you'd want and I didn't want to ruin the surprise and ask you."

"No, it's perfect," she said quickly. "I just… didn't expect it. It's really nice. You didn't have to do that."

"I know," he said softly. "I wanted to. I'd like to take you to dinner but I know that isn't possible - not yet. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight, sweetheart?"

It was silly but she couldn't help the way she smiled. "I'd really like that, Daddy," she answered. She could feel her blush but she did her best to ignore it.

"Good. I would too," he answered. "I have one more rule for you, Christine. It's a very important one, probably the only rule that I'm not willing to compromise on."

She blinked, staring at the black box where he should be on her screen. "Okay," she answered. She knew whatever it was was serious - first because of the tone of his voice, second because he very rarely _ever_ used her given name, to the point that she wasn't even sure he actually remembered it. "What is it?"

"I'm going to be very blunt with you," he answered. For the first time ever he actually sounded nervous and she sat up just a bit straighter. "I wear a mask, Christine. It isn't just… kink. It's there for a reason. That is the furthest I want to discuss the topic. You are not to ask about it. When we _do_ meet, you are not to touch it. You will not remove it. You will not try to look under it. You will still not ask about it. I know that you will be curious. I've lived long enough to know that everyone is curious. I need you to promise me that you won't ask and you won't try to remove it, Christine."

She had known that. She had seen teasings of the edge of it when she had managed to at least get him to let her see his body on camera. Her stomach flipped as she realized that he was going to turn his camera on. "I promise," she said softly.

"No matter what."

"I promise, Daddy," her voice was shaky with her anticipation. "I won't ask and I won't touch it. I promise."

"Okay," he said softly. "I believe you."

When the camera flickered on it did the same thing it had the first time - there was a flash of light and it took a moment for the picture on the screen to come into focus.

She stared at him. Something in her told her that it was probably pretty rude but she couldn't help it - she had spent so long imagining him in her head. His eyes were, in fact, a light amber. Only one half of his face was covered by a carefully sculpted white mask and from what she could see of him, if she were completely honest, she thought he was handsome. His hair was thick and black, his lips looked soft.

Christine cleared her throat and shifted awkwardly on her creaky chair. "Can I ask just one question, Daddy?" she whispered.

"... what is it?"

A strange thrill went through her when she watched his lips move with his question. It was _him_. She was so relieved to have that assurance that she honestly couldn't bring herself to mind the fact that he was wearing what would seemingly be a permanent mask. She eyed the way it was cut just over his upper lip and she smiled weakly. "I know that I won't be allowed to touch it or see under it but… will I be allowed to kiss you?"

He visibly relaxed on the camera. "I would love to kiss you, sweetheart," he answered, his smile gentle. "That will be more than allowed."

Despite the fact that he said he wanted to eat dinner with her, he ate nothing. He sipped from a steaming mug while she picked at the food he had sent her. Still, there was something about it that excited her. She couldn't stop stealing glances at him, reminding herself that he was there, that he _trusted_ her. Trusted her enough to let her see him.

And that night, when she undressed herself for him, she watched his eyes. There was something strangely thrilling in watching them rake over her, something comforting about the fact that she _knew_ he was watching her face more than anything else.

It wasn't until afterwards, when she was sated and relaxed, trying to memorize his face, that his eyes seemed to honestly wander over her. They stopped on a specific spot and she watched his lips pull into a slight frown. She shifted and watched his eyes follow her leg.

She tried to trace his gaze and her eyes landed on the angry red scab on her thigh. She hadn't really thought about it much, honestly. Not when she had done it and not when she stripped her clothes off for him. She hadn't considered the fact that it would be in plain view for him - she hadn't known that he would ever see it because even though they talked every single day, it didn't end this way every time.

"Daddy?" she whispered. His eyes shifted quickly back to hers and she sighed, fidgeting. "It's getting pretty late and I - I'm pretty tired. I think I should go to bed now."

He looked at her carefully. "That's fine, sweetheart," he said eventually. "Do you want me to stay on with you tonight?"

"No," she said quietly. "I'm okay. Like I said, I'm pretty tired. I think I'm gonna fall right asleep."

His eyes traced quickly back over the scab before they landed on her face again. "You're sure that you're okay?" he asked softly. She nodded and he returned it. "Okay. If you change your mind - I'll be up. Just call me back, alright?"

"Okay."

"Goodnight, princess," he said warmly.

"'Night Daddy," she answered, biting her lip and leaning forward to click off the camera.

In the silence she let her head fall back against the couch. She ran her hands through her hair and berated herself for being so _stupid_. She wondered if she had ruined it now, if he would answer the phone when she called him tomorrow, if he would slowly start distancing himself from her. It was a sign of _instability_ and _instability_ was too scary for some people.

When she was finished telling herself that she was an idiot, she cried.

And by the time she fell into bed she realized that she hadn't lied to him. Exhausted, she fell asleep almost immediately.


	7. Chapter 7

Christine was having a terrible, rotten day. She had a lot of them… too many of them. If she was honest she couldn't remember the last _good_ day she had. She thought that was probably at least a little bit her fault. No one else seemed to have as many bad days as she did.

It wasn't _all_ her fault though. People were mean. Customers were rude and it wasn't _her_ fault that she was small and seemed like the easiest person to bully. These days she had gotten better at holding it together - she hadn't cried in front of anyone in a long time, at least, and she thought that was probably a success.

Honestly now that she had Erik to talk to, she didn't cry nearly as often as she had. She used to get off work and go home to her quiet apartment and cry. Now she got to go home and talk to him. It was usually enough to lift her spirits at least a little bit. The time they spent together was her favorite part of the day, even if they weren't really _together_. It gave her something to look forward to and even if she never got to actually meet him, that was invaluable. She needed things to look forward to more often than not.

"Isn't your spring break coming up?"

Only a few days had gone by since he had noticed the fresh mark on her leg and, to Christine's immense relief, it hadn't seemed to change anything at all except that he asked her if she was okay more often. She _knew_ that she overreacted. She was prone to it. Her anxiety had ramped up tenfold since her dad died and no matter how much she tried, she hadn't been able to hold it back like she had been able to before. "Mhm," she answered, using her finger to mark the paragraph she had stopped on in her textbook and looking up at him. He gave her that half smile that she had so quickly grown used to. "It starts Friday."

"Hm," he said, taking a sip from the streaming coffee cup that sat on the desk in front of him. The string of a teabag hung over the edge of it. Christine had learned that he must drink a _lot_ of tea. He always seemed to have a hot cup with him. "How long will you be off for?"

"Just two weeks," she answered, looking back down at her book.

She heard the clink of his cup on the desk. "Do you have any plans?"

"I'll probably pick up some shifts," she admitted, still staring at the book. She wasn't reading anymore, not really. "It would be nice to have something to put into savings. I think it'd make me feel a lot better."

He was silent for a long minute and she had just decided to try to start reading again when he spoke up. "Just work? That's no fun, princess. Maybe you and Meg could find something to do. It would be good for you to get out of that apartment for a little while."

She gave up on the textbook entirely, looking back at him. "Like what?" she asked with a sarcastic laugh. "I can't afford anything."

"I don't know; a walk in the park, birdwatching." She watched his genuine smile grow when she laughed. "Or, I mean… you could always come and see me too."

She froze. She was pretty sure she had a dumb look on her face - she was mostly convinced that she had misheard him.

After a long silence Erik cleared his throat and took another sip from the coffee cup. "Or not," he said softly. "It was only a thought."

It took her a minute to find her words and when she did, she still couldn't make them come out quite right. "... really?" she whispered.

Her question seemed to ease him. "I don't see why not," he answered. "Just for a week or - even just a few days. Whatever you're comfortable with. I think it'd be good for you to look at someone else's four walls. Have you ever been to Chicago?"

"No," she breathed. Her heart was suddenly racing and she wasn't sure if it was from excitement or anxiety. "Do you really - Daddy, you'd get sick of me so fast."

"Oh, I don't think that's something you need to worry about, princess," he answered warmly. "There's plenty to see around here and I'm pretty sure you still have time to request a few days off, at least. A vacation would do you well."

Her first reaction was unbridled excitement. She wanted nothing more than to be _there_. To be _with_ him, in his arms, to run her hands through his thick hair the way she imagined doing so often. That gave way quickly to crushing disappointment when she actually thought about it.

First she frowned. Then she wiped at the stupid tears that she felt gathering on her lower eyelids.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" his voice was so soft and warm, _comforting_ , and she closed her eyes.

She _hadn't_ cried in front of anyone in a long time. She guessed she would have to restart that count now. "... I can't afford it, Daddy," she whispered, her voice shaking. It wasn't a lie. She could barely afford to keep the electric on, let alone a cheap coffee. There was no way she would be able to afford a plane ticket - not for a long time.

"Sweetheart," he breathed. When she gave no reaction to him he sighed. "Christine, princess, listen to me. Don't even worry about that, okay? Do you have luggage?"

At that she started to actually cry. She wiped furiously at the warm tears. Of course she didn't have luggage. She wasn't even sure that she had ever actually been on a real vacation. It was just one more expense. "I don't," she answered, not even trying to hide the way her voice trembled.

"Hey, sweetheart, please don't cry... Do you want to come and see me?" he asked gently.

Christine nodded and sniffled, using the back of her wrist to wipe at her eyes.

"Okay," he said softly. "Good. I want you to too, do you know that? I want you here pretty badly, Christine. So I'm going to order you some luggage, okay? Everyone should have a set anyway. And then I want you to ask for some days off of work and tell me when you want to be here, okay? I'm going to take care of it. You don't need to worry about it."

She tried to blink away her tears. "That's really expensive," she mumbled eventually.

"I think you just might be worth it," he answered softly. "I just need your apartment number and your favorite color, sweetheart."

* * *

"I don't like it, Chris," Meg said, digging her hand into the partially burnt bag of popcorn. She was leaning against Christine's counter. It was kind of Christine's fault that the popcorn had been burned - she sprung on the idea of visiting Erik while Meg had been setting the cook time and she must have misclicked a button in her surprise. "Like, you really don't know this guy. Honestly. I don't think it's a good idea."

Christine was coughing, making her way across the room to pry open the heavy window in the living room. When she moved in it had been painted shut. She had to chip it loose with a butter knife. She was suddenly glad that she had. "I know him," Christine argued with a cough. "How is this smell not bothering you?"

Meg shrugged and dipped her hand back into the bag. "But really, Chris. Like. What if he's a psychopath or something? I can't just come get you in Chicago. I don't like it."

"You can't call someone else a psychopath when you're eating burnt popcorn," Christine laughed, trying her best to keep things lighthearted. "He gave me his address and everything. I really don't think he's gonna murder me, Meg. I honestly don't."

"Get your laptop," Meg said, setting the bag of popcorn on the counter. "Let's pull it up and look."

Ten minutes later they were huddled shoulder to shoulder on the couch, staring at a street view of an apartment complex. It was tall, really tall.

"Please get that out of my face," Christine mumbled, pushing the popcorn bag away from her. "It's seriously the worst thing I've ever smelled."

"It isn't _that_ bad, you're just a baby," Meg huffed. "You're sure that's the right one, huh? So he lives in an apartment too?"

"He says he lives in a penthouse."

Meg choked, coughed, and got up to walk to the kitchen and dig a water bottle out of the nearly-empty refrigerator.

"Told you you should've thrown it out." Christine was fully satisfied when her friend flicked up her middle finger while she chugged the water bottle.

"And you believe him?" Meg asked breathlessly, her eyes watering from trying to hold back her coughing fit.

"Well… yeah. I mean, I trust him," Christine said slowly. "And I also googled him and he's literally the CEO of an architecture firm so… yeah. I believe him."

"Jesus," Meg breathed. "You didn't tell me any of this, Chris… I still don't like it but you're a big girl. I can't _make_ you not go. I just - I really want you to be safe, okay?"

* * *

"Meg says you're gonna murder me and hang me from the rafters," Christine greeted him one evening when he answered her call.

"That might be a little difficult," he answered. Suddenly the camera was moving and Christine was looking up at a plain white ceiling. "I don't have rafters."

"I didn't say _I_ thought that, Daddy," she giggled. "It's just what Meg said."

He hummed, slowly re-adjusting the camera so that he was back in its frame. "And what _do_ you think, princess?"

"Well," she said softly. "I _don't_ think you're gonna kill me."

"And yet you're fidgeting," he pointed out, looking pointedly at her hand that was busy picking at the fuzzy lint on her sweatshirt. "Are you nervous?"

She looked down at her sleeve and pinched at a few bigger pieces of lint, shrugging.

"You do know," he prodded. "Tell me what you're nervous about."

"Uhh," she said slowly, trying to piece a response together. She thought that _everything_ probably wasn't the answer he was looking for. "I've never been on a plane before," she said, peeking at him. "And I've never been to Chicago. And also… I don't know. Maybe I'm nervous that you'll meet me in person and find out you don't really like me that much."

"I will like you plenty. Probably even more in person," he pointed out. "Would you feel more comfortable if I came there instead?"

She glanced around at her apartment. She was embarrassed enough to take her _clothes_. The thought of him sitting on her ratty couch and finding her mattress-on-the-floor of a bed was mortifying. "No," she said, looking back at him. "You already bought me a ticket and it - it'd just be silly. I'll be okay once I get there."

"... are you at least a little excited?" he asked gently.

"Of course I am," she said, forcing a weak smile. "I'm just… I'm a little nervous too."

"I think I understand that." From the way he said it, she thought he probably did. "Just like we have been - we will things slowly. I don't want to make you anxious, sweetheart. I want you to feel safe with me and I don't expect you to be perfect, you know that, right? I know that you're very new to all of this. It can be… overwhelming. I'm going to do my best not to overwhelm you."

"I know," she said softly. "And I really - I think once I get there I'll be okay. I really do, Daddy. It's just the waiting."

"I wish that I could've gotten you an earlier flight," he said. His elbow was on the desk and his chin was resting in his palm. "I'll be waiting for you at the airport and when you get here I'm going to bring you right home. I'm pretty excited for you to see it. I'm pretty excited to make you dinner too. Is that weird? Those are the kinds of things I'm excited about, sweetheart. Meeting you. Actually getting to know _you_. We can go do all those little tourist things us residents hate so much. Is there anything that you really want to see?"

"I haven't really thought about it," she admitted.

"Well there you go," he murmured. "I want you to look into it over the next few days. Find some things that you want to see or do. I think that would be a good distraction."

* * *

"Did you make a list?" he asked.

Christine had him on speakerphone, bustling around her room while she packed her new brown and pink polka dot suitcase. She really liked it. It was cute but it wasn't over the top. It wasn't frilly and childish, it was just, well… cute.

"Uh uh," she said, tossing a pair of jeans into the open suitcase on her mattress.

"Hmm, essentials. Hairbrush?"

"I _need_ that," she answered. "I'll pack it in the morning. And my toothbrush and toothpaste and all that stuff."

"... birth control."

She flushed at that and was suddenly glad they weren't on a video chat. It was a question more than anything, she recognized that. "I have an IUD," she mumbled. "Couldn't forget it if I tried."

"That's good." He sounded relieved. "I'm just trying to help. You should make a list next time… don't worry too much, sweetheart. I have toothpaste and there's a store on every corner here."

* * *

"And you remember you promised you'd text me when you land, and when you get to his place," Meg insisted.

The airport was busy. Four in the afternoon probably wasn't the best idea. Christine almost regretted the fact that she hadn't asked him to book her a nighttime flight. There was too much going on, too many people bustling around her. "I remember, _mother_ ," she said, rolling her eyes at her friend.

"And you better do it," Meg huffed. "You gave me his address and if I don't hear from you after you land I'm not scared to send the cops to his door."

"You're so over dramatic," Christine complained.

"Yeah, well, you love me for it."

Christine had to admit that she did. Without Meg she honestly had no idea where she would be. Meg has been the one that picked up the pieces after her dad died. She had been the one that sat on the phone with her for three hours while Christine cried. She had been the one that helped her find her job, helped her move. Meg was definitely a bit of a mother hen. That's why Christine wasn't surprised when Meg completely ignored her when she said she really didn't need anyone to come to the airport with her. Even though she would never tell Meg, she was glad that she had. She had never flown anywhere before and she wasn't sure that her bag would've ever been checked right if Meg wasn't there to direct her at least a little bit. Sometimes Christine was a little embarrassed by how unequipped she was to deal with even the simpler parts of life. Trying to understand a credit score had been the worst nightmare of her life.

"Now give me a kiss," Meg teased, wrapping her arms around Christine and planting an exaggerated kiss on her cheek with a " _muah!_ "

"Get off me you creep," Christine laughed, hugging her friend back tightly.

"Rich coming from you, _princess_."

"God it sounds so much worse when you say it," Christine mumbled, pulling away from her friend. "I promise I'll text you."

"And remember that you're small," Meg said. "You're totally allowed to fight dirty if you have to. No one is gonna be mad at you if you have to kick him in the nuts."

" _Oh my God_ ," Christine couldn't help her laugh. "I promise I'll be safe and I'll see you in a week, Meg. I don't want to get stuck in security and miss the flight."


	8. Chapter 8

By the time the plane was landing, Christine's heart was firmly in her stomach, pounding like crazy and making her nauseous.

_What if he stinks?_

_What if he has bad breath?_

_What if he's really mean?_

_What if he sees you and hates you?_

_What if he's really short?_

_What if you can't find him?_

She was glad it was a short flight because she was pretty sure if she had much more time she would've stuffed herself with enough doubt to refuse to get off of the plane. She had no idea what she was walking into. She didn't know the layout of the airport or how to get the bag she had given to the lady at the desk at the first airport back.

 _Landed_ , she texted Meg as soon as her phone turned back on.

When she finally managed to find her way out into the crowd trying to get off of the plane, her heart shifted from her stomach and straight up to her throat. It was _real_. She was going to see him in just a few minutes. What if she hated it? She couldn't turn around now. It was too late. She couldn't afford to get herself back home. That made her a little anxious too. She was _completely_ at his mercy and suddenly she understood why Meg had been so worried about the idea.

 _I trust him, I trust him, I trust him_ she repeated to herself as she followed the crowd. She thought that maybe if she followed everyone else she would find where she needed to go.

When she was little she had lost her dad in a store once. The checkout lady had to take her to the guy at the customer service desk. They gave her candy and had to call him on the intercom. Somehow that seemed much more acceptable at six than it did at nineteen.

 _You have a phone now, dork_ she reminded herself.

A phone. She almost laughed at herself. _I made it, Daddy_ she texted him, staring at the screen and walking along slowly behind the crowd.

She wasn't sure how long she walked before her phone finally buzzed. _I know. I see you, sweetheart._

Christine stopped dead in her tracks and looked up - that wasn't him, that wasn't him, that -

He was there, standing near the wall and a bench, staring straight at her. It took a minute to remind her body how to move and he lifted one hand in a subdued wave, that familiar half-smile finding its way to his lips.

He took one step forward and suddenly she was flying at him.

Seeing him had always calmed her, even through the webcam. Suddenly all her doubts seemed so far away and the next thing she knew he had caught her and her legs were wrapped around his waist, her face pressed against his throat.

He was _warm_. He was warm and solid and she was pretty sure the tears that she felt wetting her face were from happiness.

His cologne had a warm scent and the only other thing she could smell was soap. That was relieving.

"You're so small, princess," he whispered softly, his free hand flat between her shoulder blades.

The garbled sob that came out of her mouth was _almost_ a laugh. It was _him_. The soft button up shirt that her hands were clinging onto for dear life was _his_. It took her a second to calm herself down enough to respond. "You're really tall," she pointed out quietly. Her voice was quivering anyway.

"I'm going to put you down, sweetheart," he said gently. "We have to go get your luggage. I promise there will be plenty of time later, hm?"

She nodded but it still took a few seconds to convince her legs to unhook from around him, to willingly let him help her lower herself to the ground.

He looked down at her and smiled, framing her face between his large, warm palms and brushing her tears away with his thumbs. "I've been waiting a very long time to do that," he said softly. "You are so pretty, sweetheart. How tall are you?"

"Five foot two," she mumbled, already relaxing into his touch.

"So sweet," he murmured. He actually had to bend down to kiss her and he did it slowly, almost like he was just waiting for her to pull away. She didn't, of course. She stayed perfectly still and let her eyes close as he moved closer and closer.

She was right. His lips were soft and warm and she couldn't stop the relieved way that she sighed against them. His kiss tasted like peppermint.

She _knew_ that her doubts were usually pretty far from reality but having it confirmed was always a relief.

"Come on," he said slowly when he pulled away from her. "We just need to get your suitcase and then we can get out of here."

He stooped down and grabbed the purse that she hadn't realized she tossed to the floor. He handed it back to her and then he took her hand, leading her through the crowd of people.

Christine was glad that he seemed to know where he was going because all she could do was stare up at him while he led her through the airport. She wanted to kiss him again. She wanted him to keep talking to her. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and let her bury her face against his chest - she would have to. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder. He was at least a foot taller than her.

"How was your flight?" he asked as he pulled her aside by the little rotating belt that suitcases were coming out on.

She stared at it, waiting to see hers. "I learned that I'm scared of heights."

"Well that's no good," he said, running his thumb over the back of her hand. "We'll get you over that. I promise."

She leaned against his arm, squeezing his hand. It was hard to believe that she was actually here, actually _touching_ him and now that she had a hold of his hand she was pretty sure she never wanted to let go.

"Right there," he said, slipping his hand out of hers and sliding her suitcase off of the belt. "Just the one suitcase, right?"

"Yeah Da- Erik," she said, catching herself as she remembered how many people were around them. She felt her cheeks flush.

He gave her a smile that he tried to hide and offered his hand to her again. "Then let's go."

She let him lead her out and through the doors, past the group of people puffing on cigarettes to the side and across the street into the parking structure. "I think I remember where I parked," he joked, looking back at her and squeezing her hand gently.

She wasn't really sure what to say so she didn't say anything at all. His hand was large and warm and _real_ and she wasn't sure why she still felt so nervous. His smile faltered but he didn't say anything.

The car that he took her to was sleek and black. She was pretty sure it was expensive - it was one of those cars that she didn't see very often, shiny and pretty and well cared for. Christine wasn't a car person and she wouldn't have been able to name it. She didn't even have a license. She could hardly remember the last time she had ridden in a car. He went around to the trunk with her suitcase and she stood there awkwardly, playing with a loose string on the cuff of her sweatshirt.

"I brought something for you," he said conversationally, closing the trunk and holding one hand behind his back. He made his way back to her and pulled a stuffed dog from behind his back. "I thought about flowers but I wanted you to be able to take it home with you. If it goes badly you can even take it home and burn it."

She huffed out a laugh and he gave her a small smile.

His hand covered hers and he pulled it away from her sleeve, slipping the stuffie between them. "Play with this, princess. If you pull on that string any harder you're going to rip the seam."

"It's really soft," she mumbled, running her fingers over the brown fur while she stared at it.

He stroked her hair once and pressed his lips to her forehead slowly. "It's okay if you need a minute," he said softly. "You're the only thing on my agenda. We have all night."

She let herself lean forward. She let her forehead press against his chest. He only had one arm wrapped around her, draped loosely around her shoulders. Part of her wanted him to squeeze her tight against himself; the other part was grateful that he was actually being gentle with her. She stayed there for a while, breathing in the scent of his cologne. Eventually she pulled back just the slightest bit, looked to the side to make sure they were alone and whispered, "Daddy?"

"What, sweetheart?" he answered softly.

"Can I kiss you please?"

This kiss was different than the first one he gave her. It was firmer, just a bit more demanding. One of her hands pulled the stuffie close against her chest but the other one ran hesitantly up his chest and eventually she wrapped her arm over his shoulder, pulling herself closer to him. His hands wrapped around her waist; they were large and warm and comforting and she didn't really mind it at all when her back gently met the cool door of the car.

He was the one that pulled away. He broke the kiss and then he gave her one more quick, short peck on the lips. It was warm. Everything about it made her feel warm.

"I'd like to take you home," he murmured.

It wasn't really a question or a request. She recognized the gentle command in his voice and it sent the butterflies in her stomach fluttering all over again. She nodded slowly and when he pulled gently on her hips she followed him, stepping away from the door of the car so that he could reach around her and open it.

Christine hadn't been in a car in a long time. A bus was her main form of transportation; Meg didn't own a car either. Her mom did but she needed to. She worked a lot. The point was, Christine didn't get into cars very often and when he reminded her to put on her seat belt it was embarrassing for some reason.

She wondered if he honestly had any idea just how poor she was. She wondered if it would change his opinion of her a little bit if he did. It made her nervous; she wasn't sure she even wanted to see his home. She already knew that they were from completely different walks of life; he was substantially older, successful, charming in his own ways. And she? She just… was. Struggling to survive and hoping she could manage to pass some classes and not be completely drowning in debt by the time she managed to graduate. She almost hadn't even taken the time off because she couldn't afford to miss a paycheck.

She pulled the stuffie close to her and absently played with its soft ear while she stared out of the window, first at the neighborhoods they passed and then at the skyscrapers. She wondered if maybe she should have just let it remain online; she was so nervous that she thought she might be suffocating a little bit.

His fingertips brushed against her knuckles and she looked over at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently.

She nodded and let him hold her hand. "I'm okay," she said softly, looking at their hands and smiling just a little bit. It was _real_. He was solid and warm and something about her hand in his grounded her just a little bit.

"You're fidgeting like crazy," he pointed out, running his thumb over her knuckles.

"'M nervous," she mumbled her confession, looking back out of the window.

He hummed. It was that same hum that he had always used and it relaxed her a little bit. "I know you are, sweetheart. I promise we'll take it easy tonight. We can just go home and you can put your pajamas on, we can just watch a movie or something. Would you like that?"

She nodded and let her head rest against the seat, tilting it so that she could look at him. She hadn't honestly believed that she would ever be here, with him, and she was determined to savor it. She wanted to touch him and look at him and remind herself that he was real, this was real, that he wasn't just some intricate and well-planned catfish like she had honestly started to believe he was in the beginning.

"I'm very happy that you're here," he murmured, squeezing her hand gently. "I want you to think about a movie or two that you might want to watch. What do you want for dinner?"

"I don't know," she answered, too busy staring at him to really think about it. If she was completely honest she was just a little bit nauseous and food didn't really sound overly appealing at the moment.

"Something small," he said. "I'll make popcorn anyway, at least. Maybe we can just do sandwiches or something. Does that sound okay?"

It was such a mundane conversation in the middle of what Christine felt like was her life turning upside down that she huffed out a halfway hysterical laugh. "Yeah, that sounds fine."

He didn't say anything. He just kept running his thumb slowly and soothingly over her knuckles as he drove through the thick traffic. She might've been nervous that he only had one hand on the wheel if traffic wasn't moving so slowly. It was one of the reasons she didn't mind not having a car that much either. They could've almost walked faster once they actually made it into the city.

Christine hadn't been in a car in a long time, and she definitely hadn't been in a parking garage in forever. She had forgotten how dark and creepy they were and she actually stayed in the car and waited for him to come and open her door to get out. He let her hold his hand tightly and didn't complain.

"We're going all the way up," he said conversationally to her. "The elevators are pretty quick, thankfully. Did your ears pop on the plane?"

"Yeah, a little bit," she said, leaning against his arm.

He nodded and paused, shifting her suitcase in his hand. "Don't be surprised if it happens on the elevator too. You live in an apartment, don't you? What floor are you on?"

"I'm on the second floor. There's only four. I use the stairs." There was an elevator but it was always out of order. Christine was paranoid that she would get stuck if she tried using it on one of those days that it was working. It happened to her neighbor once and the building had to call the fire department. She thought that maybe it was okay to leave that out.

"I don't think I've ever taken the stairs," he said. "But I'm all the way up on the fifty-third floor so I think it's probably excusable."

"That's a lot of stairs," she mumbled, trying to wrap her brain around what fifty-third floor even looked like. She had seen the building when they were pulling into the parking structure but she hadn't really thought about how tall it actually was.

"I told you, all the way to the top," he said cheerfully, leading her through the lobby.

It wasn't as crowded as she expected a building with at least fifty-three floors to be. They got a few odd looks and it took Christine a minute to realize that people were looking at him and not her. She thought that they probably had been at the airport too but _she_ was too busy looking at him to really notice. He didn't seem to care - or he didn't seem to notice. He didn't acknowledge the looks at all and when they came to the elevators he pushed her in front of him just a little bit and leaned around her to press the call button.

Three people got on with them and Erik was silent. He only let go of her to press the button for his floor. He kept one hand on her and one hand on her suitcase the entire time. He almost seemed uncomfortable but each time someone got off his grip on her loosened just the slightest bit.

When they finally reached his floor he seemed to relax. "It's an odd layout," he said when they stepped out of the elevator and the doors closed behind them. There were only four doors in the long hallway and he led her to the right. "The elevator doesn't go all the way to the top of the building. Technically I'm on the fifty-third and the fifty-fourth floor."

"It's like a house," she said, waiting patiently while he looked for his key in his pocket. The hallway was pretty ordinary and she wondered if it would be too much to ask if she could sleep there instead.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I suppose it is. Just a very tall house with windows on two sides and less lawn care. There." He pulled his keys from his pocket and turned them in the lock. He pushed the door open and motioned her toward him. "Come on, sweetheart," he said, his hand between her shoulder blades as he coaxed her in ahead of him. "Welcome to my home."

It wasn't quite as overwhelming as Christine expected. It was nice, nicer than anywhere she ever expected to live, but it wasn't quite the marble-and-gold that she had imagined in her head. Instead it was a lot of glass; floor to ceiling windows directly across from her. She could see a black leather couch facing a flat-screen television, a baby grand piano tucked behind it. The room was open, large and she could see the spiral staircase in the back corner of it. "What's up there?" she asked.

"Bedrooms," he answered. "Come on. I'll take you up there first, let you get settled in a little bit."

He went up ahead of her, carrying her suitcase for her. "You have an en-suite," he said. "Both of the bedrooms do. There's a bathroom downstairs too. I'll show you where when you come back down."

"... I have a bedroom?" she asked quietly. She wasn't sure why it disappointed her. She wasn't really sure why she hadn't expected it. She wasn't really sure _what_ she expected.

"I told you that we will take things slowly," he said softly, glancing back at her. "And it is _your_ bedroom, princess. No one else will stay there. I will not bother it. You don't _have_ to sleep there but eventually you'll be glad to have a space of your own."

She wasn't really sure about that but she didn't argue with him; she had absolutely no idea what she was doing and she thought that he was probably right. She wondered if the fact that she already wanted to curl up in his bed with him was too forward.

Christine hadn't ever really been in a situation like this before. She had never even considered long distance relationships; the only real relationship she had ever had was with Raoul. Everyone had been really surprised when she ended it; she was too. It was still something she struggled with a little bit. He was a genuinely good guy and sometimes she wondered if it was just a grass is greener situation.

The point was, it was a little weird. Because Erik had seen her, he had coaxed her through her orgasms and traced her body with his eyes through the webcam and this was the first time they had ever even touched fingertips. She wasn't really sure what was proper and what wasn't in a situation like this.

"You're fidgeting again."

She hadn't even realized it but once he pointed it out she couldn't help but notice the way that she was twisting the stuffed animal's soft ear around her finger. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'm just… really nervous."

"You don't have to be sorry, princess," he said, flipping the lights on. "I understand. It's all new to you and I know that. But you don't have to be nervous. I won't even touch you if you don't want me to."

Christine continued to twist the stuffie's ear between her fingers while she looked around the room. It was nice. There were two doors on one wall and she thought it must be the bathroom and a closet. There was a large window right in the center of the wall and the bed was at least twice as big as hers at home. It looked soft. The whole room made her think of an upscale hotel; white and fluffy and sterile. There was nothing personal at all. No art on the walls, no color, even the poofy bedspread was white and the lamp on the bedside table was plain as could be.

"The bathroom is going to be the far door," he said, pointing at it anyway. "It should be stocked up on necessities but if it isn't then let me know. The other one is the walk-in. There should be hangers. Feel free to use it. If you want to. I'll be downstairs. Take whatever time you need."

When she was alone in the room she was almost even more nervous. She stood there for a long minute, looking around and trying to take it in. It was a pretty big bedroom for an apartment - at least twice the size of hers at home. Eventually she moved. She set the stuffie by the pillows on the bed and pulled her suitcase up. She unzipped it and flipped the top open.

When she felt the temptation to hang her clothing she didn't think about it too hard. Something about it just felt a little more homely. She was still kind of living out of boxes at home. When her dad died she had been forced to move pretty suddenly; some of the boxes she refused to open. There was too much of him in them and she wasn't sure she was ready to look through them yet.

She absently wondered if Erik had an iron as she unpacked. A few of her shirts were wrinkled pretty badly. She would try to remember to ask him.

It was pretty pitiful to look at when she did get it all hung. It didn't even fill a fraction of the big, empty closet. Something about it still made her feel a little relieved. It felt _permanent_. It wasn't, of course. In a few days she would have to pull it all out and shove it back into the suitcase. But for now it felt just the slightest bit more like home.

The bathroom was her next venture. What she really wanted was a shower but she wasn't sure she honestly had the energy for it. The bathroom was actually… cute. Like the bedroom it was pretty devoid of personal touch but the sunken sink was a pretty powder-pink color that matched the tile in the shower. The shower curtain was plain and the soap dispenser was a bland white. It only took a minute of digging around to find a bar of soap. She washed her face in cool water and felt at least a little more human.

It wasn't until she went back to her suitcase that she realized she finally knew what was missing. She had been so worried about carefully selecting her outfits - choosing things that actually looked decent and weren't going threadbare - that she had completely forgotten to pack pajamas at all.

_You should make a list or you'll forget something, princess. I travel fairly often and I still forget things._

Well. He never seemed to mind being right too much.

She took the time to put the tied plastic grocery bag filled with her shower stuff and toothbrush on the bathroom counter before she made her way out and back down the spiral staircase.

He was sitting on the leather couch but he stood up as she made her way down the stairs. She stood at the bottom stupidly. She wasn't really sure where to go from there. So she stood there, she twisted the hem of her shirt between her thumb and her forefinger and eventually she said, "I forgot pajamas."

He smiled just the slightest bit. "I'm sure I can find something that at least mostly fits you for tonight."

"I should've made a list," she mumbled. She couldn't keep a straight face and eventually she broke with a weak smile.

He laughed. She wasn't sure she would ever get enough of it. "Back up, sweetheart. We'll find something comfortable for you."

She felt much more relaxed in his bedroom. It was far less sterile. The furniture was dark and so was the hardwood floor. The rug under the bed was a deep red and his comforter was black. There was pocket change on top of his dresser and a sock poked out from the lip of one of the drawers, keeping it from closing completely. A set of slippers were at the edge of the rug, one on top of the other.

It wasn't quite the disarray that she lived with but it was lived in. It wasn't perfect and immaculate and she thought maybe that's why the other bedroom unsettled her so much. It reminded her of the hospital just like the bus reminded her of waiting rooms.

"There," he said, pulling a black shirt out of a drawer and setting it on top of the dresser next to the handful of change. "I think sweatpants. We'll definitely have to roll them. I'm afraid I don't have many color options."

"It's okay, Daddy," she answered, surprised at how easily the title came even when she was right in front of him. "I'm not very picky."

He didn't say anything but he smiled. It was genuine and warm and she decided right then that she wanted to see it again. He handed her the plain back shirt and a pair of black sweatpants.

"You can change in there if you'd like," he said, gesturing toward his own bathroom. "Or you can go back to your own room. Whatever you're comfortable with."

She took his invitation. As weird as it might have sounded, she wanted to see his bathroom. She wanted to intrude on every bit of him that she could.

It wasn't anything exciting. The layout matched the one in her room almost exactly. The tile and sink were a creme color and the wood on the cabinet was dark. The light fixtures were the same, the mirror, everything else was nearly a carbon copy and when she dared to peek into the cabinet all she found was cleaning supplies and toothpaste in the drawer.

His sweatpants were almost comically long on her but aside from that, they fit fine. The shirt he gave her was soft and warm and just a little bit big on her. When she came back out, he chuckled.

"Sit here, sweetheart," he said, patting the edge of his bed.

So she did. And she didn't feel uncomfortable about it in the slightest. Not even when he got down on his knees in front of her and took her heel in his hand.

"There," he said, letting go of her heel after he rolled the cuff of the sweatpants up and moving onto her other leg. "It's better if you can walk. Have you come up with a movie yet?"

"Not really," she said, watching him work.

He hummed that familiar thoughtful hum. "I have cable too," he said, putting her other heel down and looking up at her. "I'm sure we'll find something. Are you hungry yet?"

"Not really," she repeated, feeling herself blush. "I'm sorry. I'm just… taking it in, I think. I'm… really happy I'm here."

"I'm really happy that you're here too, princess," he said, tugging gently at the cuff of the sweatpants on her right leg to even it out.

* * *

He gave her a small tour of the penthouse.

He showed her the office up on the second floor that she had seen through the webcam so many times before. She got to see the sleek black laptop that he used for it. He showed her the kitchen and even went through what was where, joking that if they went out to get her some pajamas he would have to pick up a step-stool too.

By the time he finished with that she was hungry enough to at least try to eat. So he made her a turkey sandwich and got her a glass of water and complained the whole time that it wasn't enough for a _dinner_.

It was for her, though. She didn't want to talk about the fact that it was more than she ate for dinner most nights. She didn't want him to know that the only time she ever really ate a real dinner was when he ordered food for her.

So she didn't. She just said that she wasn't _that_ hungry and she promised that she'd eat popcorn too and make up for it with breakfast.

He was satisfied enough with her answer, or he seemed to be, because he let it go.

And when they awkwardly sat together on the couch, a foot apart from each other, she made sure that she made good on her promise and stole a big handful of popcorn.

He turned the tv on and handed her the remote, leaning back against his arm of the couch.

She stared at it uncomfortably. "I don't know what I want to watch," she mumbled. She didn't care in all honesty. She just wanted to lean into him and feel his arms around her, press her face against his chest and breathe in his cologne. She had hoped that he would just pick something.

"You'll find something, princess," he said with a shrug. "I don't care much… I'm not very picky."

That last bit was said with a teasing smile and Christine sighed, opening the channel listing and scrolling through. Eventually she settled on a sitcom, settling back into the leather couch and eating the popcorn one piece at a time.

It was on the second silent episode that she glanced over at him and realized he was looking at her. He didn't look away like she expected him to and she shifted where she sat, keeping eye contact.

"Daddy?" she asked quietly.

"What, sweetheart?"

She sighed, glanced at the television and the show she wasn't interested in, and then looked back at him. "... am I allowed to snuggle you?" she asked nervously.

He only smiled. "Of course you are, princess."

She shifted slowly and he moved with her, his arm stretching along the back of the couch until she settled in against his side. Slowly he let his arm move from the back of the couch and wrap around her.

"If I ever make you uncomfortable, you are allowed to tell me to stop," he said softly. "I want to make sure that you understand that."

She nodded, turning her face in against his collarbone. "I understand," she mumbled.

"Good," he murmured, pressing his lips into her hair.

She wasn't sure how long they sat like that. She wasn't even really aware of their shift in position until he had her back against his chest, with his legs on either side of her.

Christine was relaxed, halfway sleepy. Her eyes slid closed as his fingers traced along her jaw, down her throat and slowly back up. She could feel his eyes on her and she blinked, tilting her head so that she could look up at him.

He held her eyes and each pass of his fingers was more brazen. They slowly dipped lower, tracing over her collarbone and back up, lower still, dipping over her cleavage. When he finally cupped her breast in his palm she shivered, leaning into him just a little heavier.

"Do you want me to stop?" he murmured.

She shook her head and he hummed in acknowledgement.

This time, when the tips of his fingers trailed slowly lower, they didn't bother to trace their path back up.

He found the hem of her shirt and his fingers dipped under it, tracing along her skin just at the waistband of his sweatpants.

He did that for a while, back-and-forth. It was a touch that was hardly a touch - gentle and slow and rhythmic. His finger traced a path from her left hip to her right, skimming over her skin until she thought she might go crazy.

" _Daddy_ ," she whispered.

With that, his finger pressed just under the edge of the waistband.

She felt absolutely electric. She swore she could feel her own pulse in the pad of his finger as it teased the elastic band of her underwear.

"Can I touch you, princess?"

She hardly heard his soft question but she nodded anyway with a breathless " _Please_."

He wasted no time. His warm hand found its way under the elastic band and his palm pressed against the teasing of hair there. Only one finger pressed its way between the lips of her sex and it almost purposefully missed the place where she wanted it most, running teasingly and lightly over her.

"You are so sweet," he murmured as she arched her back, hoping to trick his finger into finding that electric spot.

He hesitated, almost like he wasn't quite sure of his next move, and then slowly his finger moved. Christine let her head fall limply back against his chest as it slid inside of her. It wasn't what she _craved_ but it felt good as he curved it upward. If only he wasn't moving so _slowly_.

She wasn't sure how to ask for what she wanted so she didn't - she enjoyed what he gave her and matched her own breath to the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Eventually, like he had grown impatient waiting for her to ask, his thumb found her clit and circled it once, slowly, so torturously slowly.

She bit her lip to keep herself from gasping and pressed her hips toward his thumb but he seemed determined - his touch remained just the same, light and slow.

"If you tell me what you want, I will tell you how to get it," he said softly.

She could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest and she shifted her hips again. "Another finger, Daddy, please," she whispered shyly, trying to ignore the way her cheeks burned.

"Another finger," he murmured, trailing one along the embarrassingly slick lip of her sex. "I will give you whatever you want, princess. But I want to hear you. No biting your lip."

She nodded her head and when his second finger slid inside of her she let the relieved sigh escape her, turning her temple in against his chest.

Christine had watched his hands through the webcam many times. She had closed her eyes and imagined what they might feel like on her body, large and warm and gentle.

When his free hand found her throat, she wasn't too worried about it. It rested there, still, the pads of his fingers pressed against her pulse like he was measuring it while his fingers moved deeply, rhythmically inside of her.

"If you need it to stop I want you to tap me," he said, his breath against her forehead. "The couch - whatever you can reach."

He didn't give her much time to contemplate what he was talking about. His thumb began to move quickly against her clit, the dig of his fingers sped up. She arched her back and just as she started to cry out his hand closed lightly but firmly around her throat.

She forced out a weak, breathless sound and she felt the rumble of his chest under her head as he hummed calmly.

"There you go," he murmured soothingly as her hips rolled against his fingers. His hand tightened just a little bit more around her throat. "I wondered what it would feel like to be the hand between your thighs," he mumbled. "It's better than I imagined in my head, I think. You are so pretty, princess. Look at you. So warm and wet and red and desperate for more."

Her trembling fingers reached up, tapping against the back of his hand and just as suddenly as the pressure was there it was gone. She gasped for air and his forefinger traced gently over the column of her throat.

"Good girl," he said softly. "That's a good girl - breathe, sweetheart. It's okay."

"Daddy," she gasped between breaths. " _Please_."

"Please," he repeated warmly. "Please - are you going to cum already, sweetheart? You did like that, didn't you?"

She was rolling against him, fucking herself on his fingers desperately and she didn't feel even a little embarrassed when she nodded against his chest. "Yes," she breathed. "Yes, _please_."

"I want to hear you, princess," he repeated, the words firm with just the slightest bit of an edge. "As long as you let me hear you, yes. You can cum."

And so, when she felt the edge approaching, she threw herself over it completely. Her hands reached back and tangled in his shirt as she tried to use him as leverage to push herself against his fingers, she gasped, she shuddered and her eyes slid closed of their own volition.

She collapsed back against his chest and he pressed his lips to her temple gently, his fingers slowing, their drag slow and kind as she felt the last few desperate pulses of her muscles.

She lay there silently for a long moment, both hands holding his forearm tightly as she tried to catch her breath. It wasn't until she shifted that she noticed the firm pressure of his erection against her thigh. She paused for a moment, shifted again and he caught her wrist.

"There is so much time for that later," he murmured. "I just want to hold you right now, sweetheart. Can I hold you?"

She shifted around slowly, moving until she was laying against him on her stomach. She nuzzled her cheek against his broad chest and he sighed, wrapping one arm around her and smoothing her hair with his palm.

"Have I told you that I'm happy you're here?" he asked gently, his thumb brushing over her cheek. "Because I am. I wasn't sure that you'd even come."

Her eyelids were heavy and she let them close. She was exhausted, physically and mentally, and his gentle touch and the steady rise and fall of his chest were soothing. She hadn't been held in months and she didn't realize how much she actually missed it. "Of course I'd come," she mumbled. "I'm happy I'm here too, Daddy."

She drifted off to sleep right there, pressed against him and listening to the droning of the television in the background with one ear and the steady thump of his heart with the other.

* * *

Christine wasn't sure how long she slept but she was pretty sure it was too long because when she shifted she could feel the imprint of the wrinkles of his shirt on her cheek and she was way too warm.

"Don't get up, sweetheart," he said, shifting and clicking the television off. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you up. You were sleeping pretty hard."

She knew he was telling the truth because everything felt muddy and slow when rubbed at her eyes. "What time is it?" she mumbled, the words halfway slurred.

"Way past your bedtime," he answered unhelpfully. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

She _wanted_ to argue with him but she couldn't find the words to. She just sat up when he prodded her to and rubbed at her bleary eyes again.

He untangled himself from her and stood next to the couch. It was dark and Christine couldn't hardly see anything. When he touched her hand she jumped. "It's still just me," he chuckled, guiding her arm over his shoulder. "You have to help me, just a little bit, princess."

She sighed and threw her other arm over his shoulder, bunching the fabric of his shirt in her clumsy fingers. When he pulled her forward on the couch and lifted her her legs wrapped around his waist practically naturally. "Daddy?" she mumbled.

"Hm?"

"... I dunno," she sighed, letting her head lull against his shoulder.

"I think you're still asleep," he said softly.

"Mhm."

He chuckled and kissed her temple.

She didn't really come to again until she felt the edge of a mattress. He was shifting and then he hummed, untangling her arms from around him and slipping the soft stuffie she had been clinging to for dear life into her arms again.

He paused for a minute and then she felt his lips against hers - the kiss was so quick that she barely registered it before he pulled away. When he lifted the sheets she slipped under them. "There you go, sweetheart," he said, kissing her forehead and smoothing her hair one more time. "You know where my bedroom is. The door will be open if you need anything, okay? I'll leave the light on in the hallway if you'd like."

"Yes please," she mumbled.

"Yes please," he repeated warmly. "Such a good girl. Goodnight, princess."

"G'night," she mumbled, leaning back against the too-plush pillows. He pulled the covers up to her throat, pressed one more kiss to her forehead and then he was gone.

Christine thought she would have no problem falling back asleep. By all accounts, she shouldn't have. She was absolutely exhausted. The travel, the stress, _Erik_. She _should_ fall right back asleep.

She tossed and turned for a while. The bed was _too_ soft. So were the pillows. When she creaked one eye open she saw long shadows being cast by the light left on in the hallway.

The walls were bare, the bed was too big, and she felt suddenly lonelier than she had in a long time.

She _tried_. She closed her eyes and laid in one spot for too long. She counted from one to one-hundred in her head. She tossed and turned for an incredibly long amount of time. Eventually she gave up and stared up at the blank ceiling in frustration.

 _If you need anything_.

She sighed. She was absolutely _positive_ he was asleep by that point.

By the time that she decided it was stupid to keep laying there she was on the verge of frustrated tears.

She stood in the hallway for a long time trying to decide what to do. The hardwood was cold on her bare feet and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. She wondered if she would eventually fall back asleep if she went downstairs and turned the television on. That was the original plan. But her eyes were drawn to his cracked-open bedroom door.

It wasn't the television that relaxed her so much. She knew that. It was Erik.

Her feet carried her there. She pushed the door open just a little bit more and heard the rustle of sheets.

"Daddy?" she whispered. If he didn't answer it would make her decision for her. She would go downstairs. She would turn the television back on and find some reruns and hope the sound would be enough to put her to sleep.

"Hmm?" he asked, his voice gruff and gravelly. "Is something wrong?"

He had been asleep. She could tell from his voice alone. She chewed on her lip, shifting from foot to foot.

She heard more shifting and he sighed. "Christine. What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"... I couldn't sleep," she answered quietly.

"You can come in, princess," he said gruffly. "I told you that you don't have to sleep there if you don't want to."

She moved slowly, pushing the door mostly closed behind her. It was dark in his room and she stood uncomfortably by the door. "I didn't mean to wake you up, Daddy," she whispered. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he answered, shifting on the bed. "I was barely asleep anyway. Come lay with me, sweetheart."

She knew it was a lie. His voice was too gruff for him to have just fallen asleep. But she appreciated the effort and she climbed into bed with him, sliding under the sheets that he held open for her.

His arm wrapped around her and he hummed, pulling her closer. "Is that okay?" he mumbled. She nodded and he sighed. "Good. It is for me too. I like having you here, princess."

She shifted and realized that he had _definitely_ been lying. He hadn't just fallen asleep. He was too warm, his voice was too gruff, and she felt the same exact hardness against her leg as she had on the couch.

She shifted one more time, pushing against it purposefully just so that she could be sure that it was what she said before she whispered "Daddy?"

"Hm?" he hummed.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," she whispered.

"I already told you it's okay, princess."

She reached out and ran her hand over his solid, warm chest. "Daddy?" she mumbled. "Can I please apologize for waking you up?"

"You already…" he paused for a moment and leaned back, using the tip of his finger to tilt her chin up. "What do you want, princess?"

She bit her lip and ran her hand down his chest, lower, pausing just at the waistband of his pants this time. "Can I please apologize for waking you up, Daddy?" she asked again, softly.

He hummed and she could feel his eyes on her, looking at her closely. "What do you normally use to apologize, princess?" he asked, a slight edge in his voice.

Her brow furrowed and she pulled at the edge of his shirt as she thought. "... words?" she asked eventually.

"Close," he said warmly, his thumb pulling at her bottom lip until she released it from between her teeth. "What do you normally use to apologize?"

His thumb ran meaningfully over her lip again and she shivered. "My mouth, Daddy," she answered eventually.

"Mhm," he replied. "If you use your mouth, I will let you apologize."

She nodded slowly and she felt him leaning forward, closer, closer.

"Good girl," he murmured, kissing her lips deeply before he leaned back against the pillows.

Christine had never honestly felt nervous about a blowjob before. The only guy she had ever been with was Raoul and he was… gentle. The edge in Erik's eyes as he stared down at her made her nervous. They were intense and focused and way too serious for someone that had just woken up.

She moved slowly, cautiously, and Erik reached down himself to move the sheets out of the way. She pulled his sweatpants down, reached into his briefs and once he was free… she felt stupid. For a long moment she just stared at its shape in the dark, glancing up to find him staring at her.

She licked her lips nervously and then she leaned down, licking slowly from just under the head of his cock to the tip.

"Good girl," he hummed, his voice just slightly more gruff.

She quickly took him into her mouth, running her tongue along the underside of his cock, sinking just a bit deeper than was comfortable.

" _Fuck_." She heard him breathe. The fingers of one hand tangled in her hair, resting against the back of her head like he had to steady himself.

She bobbed her head comfortably, slowly, and she felt it distinctly when his hand pushed her head down.

She gagged and almost immediately the pressure lessened. Her hands found purchase on his thighs and just when she found a pace that made the muscles under her hands tense the hand tangled in her hair used it to pull her off of him.

"Princess, look at me." He was slightly breathless and she met his hungry eyes. "I want you to touch yourself for me," he instructed slowly. "Just like you did on camera."

She gave half a nod and started to move back down but he tugged her hair.

"You don't have to ask permission," he said. "You're allowed to cum but not before I do."

She wouldn't be able to pin it down. She wouldn't know what exactly it was - whether it was the demand in his voice or the look in his eyes - but she had to press her thighs together to attempt to relieve some of the pressure while she nodded at him.

"Good," he said.

He was pushing her head back down and she parted her lips, taking him into her mouth and trying to find the pace he had interrupted.

"Your own hand," his gruff voice instructed.

Her hand automatically went to work, sliding under the layers that his had slipped under hours before. She circled her own clit and gave a choked moan. She heard his breath catch at that.

Christine went to work twice as hard. The sounds from his mouth made it difficult to concentrate on herself and he either seemed to not notice or not care that she kept forgetting his instruction.

Raoul always gave her a warning. Erik… did not.

A second hand joined his first on the back of her head and he rolled his hips upward. She choked, only a little, and closed her lips around him to attempt to avoid a mess as he pulsed warm in her mouth.

His grip on her loosened slowly and she took the opportunity to pull back and swallow, looking up at him.

His eyes were softer, warmer, and his hands hooked under her arms, tugging her up on the bed. "Come here, sweetheart," he murmured breathlessly. She wasn't really sure why - he definitely didn't wait for her to obey.

He settled her on the pillows beside him, he leaned over her and his mouth was on hers. He kissed her in the way that she had craved, leaning almost completely overtop of her. His hand swatted hers away and his finger found her clit quickly.

He wasn't quite as gentle. It was rough and hard and she moaned against his lip, her nails clawing at his shirt to try to pull him closer.

When she came, it wasn't quite as intense as the first time. Erik faltered, pressing his forehead against hers while they both attempted to catch their breath.

"Fuck," he breathed eventually, breaking the silence. "I forgive you, princess. For waking me up. Are you okay?"

She nodded and he sighed, pressing a gentle kiss to one cheek, the other cheek, and then her lips before he rolled off of her, laying back against his pillow again.

"Come here, princess," he said, pulling the tangled sheets up and holding his arm open to her.

She settled in against his chest and he pulled the blankets up around them, tucking her head under his chin.

His hand was warm and gently, running soothingly over her back.

"Daddy?" she mumbled.

"Hm?"

"I'm really happy that I'm right here."

His palm squeezed squeezed her waist gently and he pressed a warm kiss to her forehead. "Goodnight, princess."


End file.
